


The Widow & the Warrior

by hotchoco195



Series: Second Chances [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Baby!Nat, Bucky Barnes Feels, Conditioning, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, Mental Health Issues, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Protective Natasha, Some Cuteness, Some angst, baby!Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple of small Avengers land in Bucky's lap, and he does what any sensible ex-assassin would do - try to fob them off on Tony.</p>
<p>It doesn't stick.</p>

            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony was a bad sleeper by nature, let alone habit, and it wasn’t unusual for him to spend days in his workshop before crashing hard. Pepper endured it with her trademark good grace, and Tony went out of his way not to disturb her with his nocturnal tinkering. Still, even if he’d been a world napping champ, he was pretty sure he would have been woken up by the frantic pounding on the front door.

“Jarv?” he frowned, pushing his stool back from the workbench.

There was no response. No one should have been able to make it onto the property without the AI raising the alarm, let alone all the way to his doorstep. Tony grabbed an automatic pistol and held out his other arm, pieces of the suit flying to cover the outstretched limb and the front of his torso as he hurried out of the workspace.

The house was silent, the lights on Jarvis’ cameras winking steadily in the dark despite his lack of response. Tony reached the entrance hall, gun at the ready. He could make out a human-shaped shadow through the frosted glass, tall and broad-shouldered with longish hair by the looks of it.

“Tony?” a voice whispered behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder at Pepper, peeking around the top of the stairs.

“Get back, babe.”

She pressed her lips together unhappily but obeyed, ducking out of sight. Tony sidled along the wall next to the door so he wouldn’t present a target, and yanked it open with his weapon aimed right at their visitor’s nose.

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, stood on the stoop with a terrified look on his face and a sleeping child in each arm.

“Help me,” he begged, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What the actual fuck?”


	2. Chapter 2

 

** _Four hours_ e _arlier_ **

 

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he’d followed Steve back to Manhattan when the captain stopped chasing him. He’d been trying to avoid the blond, yeah, but knowing he was never far away had been comforting in a strange way. It had been nice to see how much Steve cared, even if Bucky wasn’t ready for that kind of emotional connection. And he was lost without anyone to give him orders anymore. It made more sense to trail after the lead Avenger rather than sit on his ass in the middle of Utah and stare at dingy hotel walls all day.

Fury’s attack team were busy a lot, often overseas where Bucky couldn’t follow easily, but they always returned to Stark Tower and he stayed close, keeping an eye on them. Some he remembered from D.C, like Sam and Natasha, and some were new, like Bruce and Thor and Barton, and some were way too fucking familiar, like Tony  ‘chip off the ol’block’ Stark. He watched them, watched the way they acted with Steve and as a group, and he found himself respecting them for more than just their talents. Tony was an arrogant ass but he made time for the people who mattered; Clint was funny and smarter than he pretended; Bruce was the most caring person he’d ever met, including Steve’s Ma. They were decent people, which made Bucky feel a lot better about Steve – he couldn’t get into too much trouble with friends like that.

He’d been trailing the super soldier as usual. Steve, Clint, Natasha and Bruce were out for dinner; Thor was in London with Jane until the next mission, and Stark had taken his girlfriend to the family estate for some private time. The foursome were at a cheap Chinatown restaurant where the kitchen stunk of seafood and the light fittings were cheap paper party lanterns, but they were smiling and having a good time from what he could see across the street. Steve laughed at something Natasha said and Bucky’s chest ached with some long-dead memory.

They finished eating and fumbled through their wallets. Bruce paid, managing a smile for the hostess, and they walked out. Clint stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I’m gonna hit the hay. Got an early flight tomorrow.”

“I like that plan.” Steve yawned.

“Shall we get a cab?” Bruce glanced up and down the street.

“I think I’ll walk off some of those egg rolls.” Natasha said.

“A walk might be nice,” Bruce stuck his lip out, “Want some company?”

“Sure. Boys?”

Clint shook his head. “I’m so full I’d have to roll back to the tower. You guys enjoy your fresh air and friendly neighbourhood muggers.”

“Natasha eats muggers for breakfast, right?” Steve smirked, “She’ll protect Bruce’s virtue.”

“But who’ll protect it from me?” the redhead leered playfully.

Clint stuck his arm out and a cab pulled over. “See you back at base then.”

“See ya.” Bruce waved, the pair starting down the sidewalk as Steve slid into the car beside the archer.

Bucky could have followed Steve but he would have needed a vehicle, and there were too many people around to risk boosting a car. He tailed Nat and Bruce instead, blending into the crowd with his hood up, enjoying the slight breeze as they made their way leisurely to Midtown. Natasha might notice him eventually, but he doubted it – she’d never spotted him before. He was very, very good at his job.

 

They headed north for twenty minutes, chatting amiably but too soft for him to make out, and then they turned at Union Square and something exploded in the street.

The light or blast or whatever it was didn’t flatten a single building or tree, but every person in the vicinity went straight on their ass. Bucky rolled to a crouch immediately, head still ringing as he scanned the area for threats. Natasha was also up, keeping low so she didn’t present a target, dragging Bruce out of the road to the shelter of a parked car.

A man in a steely blue robe stepped out of the station building. Other than the wizard outfit he looked normal enough, an older guy with a short silver beard and a long black staff in one hand that gave Bucky the instant and severe creeps. He didn’t want to look at it too long, eyes drifting away on impulse. The ex-assassin drew the gun from his shoulder holster and ducked behind a trashcan, waiting to see what the attacker wanted. Civilians were trying to get up, crawling away from the intimidating figure, and Bucky didn’t want to hit anyone who got between him and the assailant.

The sorcerer or whoever he was pointed his staff at Natasha and she answered with a series of quick shots from her own gun, the rounds visibly slowing in the air as if she’d fired through warm toffee, until they dropped uselessly to the asphalt well short of their target. He said something in a language that made Bucky’s neck itch and a bolt of reddish purple light flew across the road to hit Nat square in the chest, knocking her down.

Bucky didn’t wait, opening fire. He’d hoped the magician wasn’t expecting a second point of attack but the toffee spell was evidently still at work, his bullets spiralling through their paths at a snail’s pace. He couldn’t see Natasha but Bruce was getting up, eyes glowing neon green, and Bucky knew shit was about to get serious, fast. He should get out of there – there was nothing he could do about Hulk, and by now SHIELD would be on their way with backup.

But before he could finish transforming, a second shot of magic got Bruce in the face. Whatever it was laid him out despite his alter ego’s invulnerability. The wizard moved closer, and Bucky decided he couldn’t wait for SHIELD. He drew a second gun as he sprinted down the street, zig-zagging in case the enemy took a potshot at him, and went into a slide for the last ten feet as he emptied both magazines into the sorcerer from almost point-blank range. Forty bullets driving themselves through your body would kill you regardless of how fast they did it. He jerked and screeched in pain, and then dropped to the pavement.

Bucky didn’t move, eyes open for another attack. But the dead man didn’t seem to have any accomplices, and the only sound was frightened people and sirens getting closer. He dumped the empty clips and reloaded, senses alert, and then holstered one weapon while he moved to check on the Avengers.

They weren’t there. Instead he found two small children in adult-sized heaps of fabric. The boy had dark, messy hair and he was curled up with his back against the car, hugging his legs as his eyes darted around fearfully. The girl was a redhead, and despite her size she was crouching in a loose combat stance, a knife too big for her gripped in one hand.

Jesus Christ, seventy years of training and missions and Bucky was still not prepared for this.

 

He should leave. The authorities would be here any second, and they were better equipped to handle a couple of kids who may or may not be Avengers. Steve and Barton were surely not far behind. But they _were_ kids, and possibly dangerous ones from the look on Natasha’s face, and he wasn’t sure if the maybe-Bruce could maybe-Hulk out. He couldn’t leave them while they might be vulnerable, in case there was someone waiting for the chance to finish them off. The soldier got closer, clearing his throat.

“Bruce?” he tried, voice more gravelly than he liked.

The boy flinched but he looked up, shoulders trembling.

“Your name is Bruce Banner?” Bucky tried again.

“Ye-ye-yes.”

Great. “And you’re Natasha Romanov?”

She scowled, muttering back in sharp Russian. “Do not be familiar with me, stranger.”

He cursed himself and tried again, his own Russian slightly rusty. “Natalia? I am not a stranger. My name is James.”

“I don’t know you.” Her eyes narrowed.

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. Even better – not only were they child-sized, but they had no idea who they were.

“I…I don’t know what you’re saying,” Bruce sniffed, “But how do you know my name?”

Bucky bit his lip. He should bail before this got any more complicated.

“We have a mutual friend. Sort of.”

“Who?”

He sighed. “That’s hard to explain. He’ll be here in a minute though, I think.”

And Bucky shouldn’t be there when he was. He could pull back, keep an eye on the kids from a distance, and make his exit as soon as the cops showed.

Except nobody else knew they were Bruce and Natasha. The boy would probably stay where he was and answer questions, but Natasha didn’t seem to know any English yet and definitely wouldn’t trust a bunch of Americans. He cringed at the thought of how she’d react to Steve in his stars and stripes uniform. She had some training, he could see it, and if she ran they might not find her again. Bucky should stay and explain things, and keep an eye on her. But if he stayed, Steve would see him, and he wasn’t ready to deal with that.

The kids needed help, and he needed to stay out of sight. There was only one person he could take them to who he trusted to keep them safe, and who might not tell Steve.

 

He straightened, holstering his second gun. “Comrade Romanova, this boy Banner is under our protection. It is our mission to get him away from the scene.”

“You’re not my comrade.” She said, but her brow furrowed and he could tell she wasn’t sure.

“That’s an order, Natalia!” he snapped, hating the authoritative tone. But it worked; Natasha shifted her suspicious gaze to the crowd instead of him.

“Bruce,” his hand hovered near the boy’s shoulder, “We need to move.”

“What about our friend?”

Bucky cursed himself for forgetting how smart the kid was. “I’m worried there might be more bad guys. Do you remember the guy in the blue robes?”

Bruce screwed up his nose. “I think so.”

“Well he might have friends. We need to go.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t seem like he was going to Hulk out, but Bucky had to check.

“Bruce,” he said softly, “Do you feel…angry? Or strange?”

“No. Am I supposed to?”

Bucky stood and smashed the driver’s side window with his metal arm, opening the door as the alarm went off. He glanced at Natasha.

“Help Bruce into the back seat – politely.”

She got up and opened the door, reaching for the other child. “This way, American.”

He frowned at Bucky. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s Russian, so you won’t be able to understand each other,” he explained, “But she wants to help you and I’m gonna look after you both. Get in the car.”

“I dunno…I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers. Mum said not to.”

Bucky ground his teeth. He didn’t have time for this. “Look, you wanna stay here by yourself with the bad guys?”

Bruce shook his head, scrambling into the car, and Natasha followed. Bucky slid behind the wheel and wrenched back the panel underneath so he could get to the ignition wires. In eight seconds he had the engine started, and was pulling around the sorcerer’s corpse none too carefully.

“Seatbelts.” He snapped, repeating it in Russian.

Then he floored it, hoping he remembered the way to Stark Manor.

*****

“They fell asleep on the drive,” he explained as Pepper finished tucking a blanket around Bruce, “I’m pretty sure Natasha’s faking it.”

“I have a question, Barnes,” Tony scowled, “Why didn’t you just take them to your old pal Steve? Who was right there, by the way.”

“I told you,” he clenched his jaw, “I-”

“Got the jitters, yeah, yeah. Well they’re here now, so you can am-scray and I’ll call it in. Steve and Barton are probably panicking, given that you left a dead wizard in the middle of Manhattan and two of the team are _missing_.”

Bucky bit back a retort. “I’ll go.”

“It’s late,” Pepper frowned, “And it’s a long drive. Why don’t you stay tonight and leave tomorrow?”

“I shouldn’t be here when SHIELD arrive,” he stiffened, “Ma’am.”

“It’s fine, Pep. We can take it from here, and Sergeant Barnes can skedaddle again to go back to his creepy lurking and moping.”

“Tony.” She admonished.

Bucky didn’t care what Stark thought of him though, and he headed for the door. He only made it as far as the hall.

“Is this location secure?” Natasha asked, arms folded over her chest.

“You are supposed to be in bed.” He chided with a scowl. He didn’t need more questions.

“You said our mission was to protect the child. Are these people safe?”

Bucky sighed. “There was no mission, Natalia. I just needed your help to get him in the car because you’re a lot tougher than Bruce, and I knew you could do as I asked.”

“You lied to me.” If she was upset about it, it didn’t show on her face.

“A bit,” he admitted, “But this place is safe – for both of you. Tony and Pepper are friends. They’ll look after you.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I don’t belong here.”

She glared. “Neither do I. You must take me back to the Red Room.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I will find it myself.”

He grumbled under his breath and crouched beside her, careful to keep his weight balanced and his body out of arm’s reach. “There is information you don’t have that makes that impossible. Stay with Tony and Pepper – they will protect you.”

“They don’t even speak Russian.”

“Mr Stark’s very smart. I bet he speaks some.”

“They are _American_.”

“So am I.”

She gave him a disdainful look that made him feel two feet tall. “You are KGB.”

“I used to be. But I wasn’t always.”

She considered him, eyes drifting to the closed door behind them. He could see her weighing the options. She didn’t trust any of them, but she trusted he was a familiar sort of person, and they had established some kind of rapport. If he left, it would take Natasha twenty minutes max to slip out of the house and disappear.

He couldn’t stay. Steve was going to come, and then he’d be angry with Bucky for running and angry for taking the children and angry for everything that had happened with HYDRA…he couldn’t stay. And he couldn’t afford to care about Natasha when he needed to be watching his own ass.

Natasha stuck out her lip and he sighed, opening the bedroom door to find Pepper and Tony having a whispered discussion. They both looked up, the billionaire’s brows raised.

“Yeah?”

“You got a couch I can sleep on?”

Pepper smiled. “I think we can find something.”

 

The couch was too soft, the cushions sinking under the heavy weight of Bucky’s arm. He moved his pillows and blankets to the floor, though it made no difference to his ability to sleep. He couldn’t possibly doze off when worry gnawed at the edges of his brain. What was he going to say to Steve? How secure was the compound? He hadn’t done a full security assessment, and he usually never stayed anywhere until he knew its strengths and weaknesses. What was going to happen to Bruce and Natasha? What would SHIELD do to him?

Sometime around 2am a small pair of feet ghosted down the stairs, and Bucky lay still as Natasha crept into the lounge room. She curled up at the foot of a recliner where she could see him, pillowing her head on her hands. He let out a loud breath to indicate he knew she was there, but didn’t speak. Eventually he heard her breathing slow into natural sleep rhythms – she might have been a spy in training but she was also a kid, and she didn’t have the same stamina as a genetically enhanced grownup.

Maybe half an hour later he heard vehicles approaching on the road. He got up quietly enough that he didn’t wake Natasha, meeting Tony by the stairs as the genius headed for the front door.

“SHIELD?” Bucky murmured.

Tony nodded, and the ex-assassin felt a rush of panic like a knife in his guts. Stark grabbed his metal bicep carefully.

“Hey – hold it together, alright?”

“I’m fine.” He lied, jerking away from the touch.

Tony looked completely unconvinced, raising a brow. “Sure you are. How about you stay here and let me handle the meet and greet?”

“I need to do a threat assessment.”

“My security’s pretty good, Tin Man.”

“I got around it.” He pointed out with only a hint of smugness.

Tony grumbled under his breath but didn’t object to Bucky ghosting along behind him as he opened the door. There were three black SUVs parked in the drive. Agents and medicos were unloading equipment. Steve stood on the stoop with his hand raised, about to knock, Clint and Maria Hill beside him.

“Tony.”

“Hey bud. So much for my relaxing weekend, huh?”

The blond’s eyes flicked past him and spotted Bucky, and the brunette froze, mouth agape. There was anger in those eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw too familiar. But Steve didn’t say anything, turning back to Tony.

“Where can these guys set up?”

“Dining room – I’ll show them.”

“Where are Agent Romanov and Dr Banner?” Hill asked.

“In bed. I don’t think waking them up with all these new people around is a great idea.” The billionaire made a face.

“We need to examine them as soon as possible,” Steve frowned, “To make sure there are no dangerous side effects of the transformation.”

“Natasha’s not asleep,” Bucky ventured, cringing as they all turned to look at him, “I, uh, can hear her moving.”

Whatever he might have thought about Bucky, Clint gave him a smile. “Wanna introduce me?”

 

Bucky led the archer to the living room, turning just before the door to stop him with a gentle hand on his chest.

“She doesn’t remember anything from the last twenty years. She only speaks Russian, as far as I can tell, and she’s capable enough to take you out if you underestimate her.”

Clint nodded an acknowledgement. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Should we wait out here?” Steve stuck his lip out.

“No,” Bucky shook his head, eyes on the floor, “We have to be straightforward with her or she’s only gonna be more suspicious – she already knows you’re here. Just…just let me do the explaining. She…she thinks I’m still one of her people.”

He cleared his throat and opened the door. Natasha was still lying where he’d left her, eyes closed. He turned on a lamp and moved to sit on the couch, where he wouldn’t be looming over her.

“Natalia,” he said without raising his voice, “There are some people here to meet you.”

She cracked one eyelid, studying him for a second. Then she swept her gaze over the others without lifting her head. He could see her body poised to move in a hurry if she had to, but Bucky kept his own expression calm and his posture steady. Eventually she sat up, watching the newcomers solemnly.

“These are the other members of Mr Stark’s team: Agent Clint Barton, Captain Steve Rogers, and their handler Maria Hill.”

Nat’s eyes darted from face to face, veiled by her lashes. She looked at Bucky. “They are spies.”

“Nope, just me,” Clint said brightly in Russian.

She watched him with more interest, moving closer. “Your accent is very good. Much better than Comrade Barnes.”

He smirked. “I’m good at languages – I don’t want my snappy comebacks getting lost in translation.”

“Why are you here?” she bit her cheek, “Am I a prisoner?”

“No,” Bucky said firmly, “It’s, uh, complicated. Do you remember the man in blue, Natalia?”

“The one you eliminated.”

“Yeah. He was…well, we think he was a magician.”

“There is no such thing as magic.” The little redhead sneered.

“Apparently there is,” Clint interrupted, “It’s a pretty new discovery but it’s definitely a thing. We’ll show you some footage.”

“You and Dr Banner – Bruce – are members of Stark and Barton’s team too, at least until the attack. The spell seems to have turned you both into children. That’s why you don’t remember anything about how you got to New York.”

She glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”

Clint looked over his shoulder. “Hey Tony, you got anything hi-tech and flashy close by?”

“Sure.”

 

He raised a hand and waited, and then pieces of the Iron Man suit came flying through the doorway to latch on, locking together with a series of clinks. Natasha’s eyes went wide and Bucky saw her fists come up.

“It’s okay,” he raised a hand, “He’s not hostile.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Maybe something less threatening?”

“Right, sorry. Jarv?”

A large blue hologram appeared in the middle of the room, a 3D model of the house. Natasha stood, staring openly at she reached out to touch it. She didn’t recoil when her fingers went straight through, looking thoughtful instead.

“The team and our helpers are here to figure out what happened, and try to turn you back.” Clint said with the same cheerful tone.

Nat glanced at Bucky and he shrugged.

“They want to make sure there was no damage from the spell. Will you let them examine you?”

“I do not want the Americans to touch me.”

“What if you just tell me how you feel, huh?” Clint asked, “Any weird aches or pains, if you feel sick, or dizzy.”

“So that you can use my weakness against me.”

“We’re not at war anymore, Romanov. I don’t need to take you out,” he smiled wolfishly, “If I even could. I almost never beat you when you were full-size, and I bet you’re even faster like this.”

Natasha considered him for a moment and moved closer to Bucky. “Do you trust them?”

He couldn’t lie – she’d see it immediately. “I don’t know. I’m sure they aren’t going to hurt you. They’re your friends, even if you don’t remember it. I am less sure about me.”

“I feel tired,” the girl admitted, “That is all.”

“Okay. I think they wanna do some scans. Is that okay?”

She made a face and he beckoned her closer, leaning in so the others couldn’t hear.

“It would give you a chance to see the American technology. Think what that intel is worth.”

Natasha nodded gravely, as if he’d finally made a good point. “You will stay with me?”

“If you like.”

She glanced at Steve and Hill again. “Tell them I will fight them if they try to hurt me.”

Bucky took a breath, blown away by the steely venom in her voice. “I’ll make sure they know.”

 

With the former soldier hovering at her shoulder like a deadly guardian angel, Natasha submitted to SHIELD’s scans and examinations. She glowered at them through most of it, and Bucky had to translate for everyone, but she didn’t stick an IV through anyone’s face and that seemed like a victory. Afterwards Hill, Stark and the scientists gathered around to discuss the results, and Bucky escorted Natasha back up to her room.

“You do not have to sleep,” he muttered, knowing she wouldn’t anyway, “But you must at least lie down and rest.”

“You will stay close?”

“I’ll be right out in the hall.”

She climbed back into bed. He let her pull the covers up herself, staying carefully out of her personal space, and paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“Natalia?”

“Yes?”

He held up the letter opener he’d taken from her as they climbed the stairs. “You need to work on your awareness – and your sleight of hand.”

She looked appropriately shame-faced, but then smiled. “The American spies did not notice.”

“No, they didn’t.” he acknowledged with a grin, tossing the silver blade back to her. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate to arm a five-year-old spy in a house full of strangers, but he knew if he was in her place, he’d feel naked without a weapon. At least this way he knew what she was toting.

Bucky closed the door behind him and turned to find Steve leaning against the wall. His jaw was set in a furious glower, and the brunette only just stopped himself flinching away.

“We need to talk – now.”

“I…I promised to keep watch.”

“I’m sure it can wait ten minutes.”

He jerked his head towards an open door and Bucky didn’t bother arguing. There was no changing Steve’s mind when he got like this. He went first, feeling horribly exposed with the blond at his back. It was another spare bedroom ( _how many did Stark have?_ ) and Bucky quickly moved to the other side of the bed, to keep some distance between them. Steve shut the door and leaned back against it, and the other man cursed internally. He could still get out through the window if he had to, but it was a lot more attention-grabbing.

“How long have you been in New York?”

 

His words caught in his throat and his metal fingers flexed with a grating sound. He couldn’t answer, not with _Steve_ staring at him like that. The last time they’d been in the same room, Bucky had been trying to kill him. He’d shot the guy, for God’s sake.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,” Steve’s mouth twitched, “I spent almost a year trying to find you, Buck. Worryin’ about ya the whole time, not knowing if you were even alive, or a prisoner, or…Jesus, I missed ya.”

Bucky looked up sharply to find Steve giving him a teary smile. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and he coughed.

“I followed you when you went back.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? Even a note or something, just so I knew you were there?”

“I…” he frowned, “I wasn’t ready. I’m not ready. Things in my head…they’re messy.”

“You think I care about that? I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“I’m not.” Bucky said quietly.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can I help?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

The captain sighed. “Okay. Thank you for looking out for Tasha and Bruce. You didn’t have to.”

“They’re team.” He half-shrugged.

“Yeah. She seems to like you.” Steve’s smile widened.

“She’s like me. Got someone else in her head.”

“How’s Bruce?”

“Scared. Nervous kid. I don’t know his background…”

“It’s not a fun story.”

“I don’t think he can change.” Bucky said quickly, realising that was important information.

“Okay. Probably for the best.”

There was a pause while Steve rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, regarding Bucky worriedly.

“Will _you_ let the docs take a look at you?”

“No,” he shook his head vehemently, “No docs.”

“It’s a little hypocritical telling Nat to trust them if you won’t.”

“It’s different. She’s SHIELD.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “You’re not – Bucky, you’re not a target or anything. No one’s after you. SHIELD aren’t gonna lock you up.”

“Lots of HYDRA inside.” He huffed.

“We’re pretty confident we’ve weeded them out.”

“You didn’t see them before.” Bucky said, and it wasn’t accusing, just matter-of-fact.

Steve sighed. “Yeah, I guess. But I swear I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, not while I’m around to stop ‘em.”

“I can handle myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Bucky frowned. “That’s just how it is.”

Steve started to say something but the brunette folded his arms and nodded at the hall door.

“I should get back to my post.”

“Sure. I’ll let you get some sleep. But you can talk to me, whenever you need to. I’m gonna look out for you, pal.”

It was too much, too close to Bucky’s memories and yet completely alien. Nobody looked after him. He was the Asset. He didn’t have friends, only handlers.

“We’ll talk,” he said, voice firmer, “Tomorrow.”

“Course – tomorrow.”

*****

Bruce was definitely freaked by the extra people and activity, but he also took Tony’s explanation a lot better than Nat, especially once the genius showed him video of Loki and the Tesseract and every magical incident they’d faced in recent years. He sat attentively with Stark as the man helped the scientists and doctors furiously working in the dining room. Screens lined the room, huge white and chrome machines spinning and scanning and replicating in ways Bucky didn’t bother to understand. He stayed out of the way, hiding in a games room on the second floor.

He should be leaving – Nat and Bruce had more than enough people to help them now. But his main reason for going had been to avoid Steve, and it was too late for that. And he got the feeling if he vanished again, the super soldier was going to be more than pissed; he’d be disappointed, and for some reason Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of that. And he wouldn’t put it past Steve to come chasing after him, so he could make his displeasure known loudly, and possibly violently.

This wasn’t his business though – he wasn’t an Avenger, or a SHIELD agent. His only connection to them was the blond captain, and he didn’t like to intrude on a bunch of highly suspicious people who had no reason to like him. He should just slip away while they were all preoccupied. He could probably placate Steve a bit with a note.

The door opened and his body tensed for a second before he recognised the footsteps. Natasha padded around the pool table to find him crouched in the corner, and sat facing him.

“You are unhappy about the tall wide American with the blue eyes,” she said, “Their leader.”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Is he a threat?”

Bucky shook his head. “He’s that mutual friend I mentioned yesterday. We, uh, we have a history. An unpleasant one.”

“But you are friends?”

“We used to be. I’m not sure anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I don’t know…how,” he frowned, “Do you have friends?”

She scoffed. “An agent has no friends, only allies.”

“You’re not an agent yet.”

She gave him an offended look and he shrugged.

“You’re still in training. You don’t get along with any of the other girls there?”

“Friends are a distraction,” the redhead replied as if reciting a lesson, “Friendship is a weakness that can get you killed. You cannot afford to hesitate in the field, ever.”

“You know, my last mission was to take out Steve.”

Her brows raised, the girl leaning in. “What happened?”

“I couldn’t. I remembered he was my friend – or I recognised him, at least enough to hesitate. But I’m glad I did. I’m glad I don’t have to add that to my list of mistakes.”

“What did your handlers do?”

“They’re dead.”

“You do not have orders then, like me.”

“Yeah. Guess we’ll just have to blunder through it together, huh?”

“That would be sensible.” She said seriously.

Bucky smiled. “I feel better already.”

 

Neither of them seemed too bothered just sitting quietly, listening to the rest of the house, but then Bucky was used to long stake-outs and Natasha was too wary to get bored. After a few hours Bucky realised she must be hungry; he’d learned long ago to suppress his body’s needs during a mission, but Natasha was a child. He was impressed she hadn’t said anything, and then immediately saddened by it.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Do you want to come?”

She nodded and stood, creeping over to peer through the slightly open door. “It is clear, comrade.”

It shouldn’t have felt reassuring to have a five-year-old watching his back, but it did. They took a second, less grandiose set of stairs to avoid the main foyer, and Bucky gestured to the room on his left, which was a small bathroom.

“Do you want to wait here?”

She frowned. “I should maintain visual contact.”

“Okay. Stay close.”

He scoped out the kitchen before entering. Pepper was making coffee, but it was otherwise deserted. He could see into the dining room beyond, papers and charts tacked over the wallpaper as people argued quietly. He was going to wait for the CEO to leave, then realised the trip would be a lot faster if she could help them navigate the pantry and fridge.

“Miss Potts?” he said quietly.

She looked up and gave him a bright smile. “Sergeant Barnes. Is everything okay?”

“We were going to have some lunch,” he nodded towards Natasha, “If that’s alright?”

“Of course, let me help. What are you in the mood for?”

He stared at her wide-eyed. Didn’t she know Bucky’s opinion didn’t matter? He looked at Nat. “What do you like?”

She gave him an odd look. “What I am given.”

That sounded reasonable to him. “Whatever you are making, Miss Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper,” she went to the fridge, “How about sandwiches? Ham and cheese?”

“You’ll need to make one for you, too. Natasha won’t eat if she thinks it’s unsafe.”

Pepper didn’t question it, her lips pursed disapprovingly. “Would you both like to sit at the island so she can watch me?”

“That would be better, yes.”

 

Pepper took Bucky’s suggestion seriously, laying out the ingredients where Nat could see them and keeping her hands in view as she assembled the sandwiches. She made one each for herself and Nat, and two for Bucky until with a subtle glance she evidently made a decision and added a third to the plate. Then she made another two, smiling at the others.

“Bruce is probably hungry too, and Tony won’t notice with all that going on.”

She took the sandwiches into the next room and returned, sitting down to start her own lunch. Nat waited until the older redhead had taken a couple of bites, and exchanged a glance with Bucky. He nodded, picking up his food. She copied, eyes still watching Pepper.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Pepper asked Bucky, “For either of you? Maybe I could go into town and get some clothes that will fit her.”

Nat was still in the over-sized singlet she’d been wearing when the attack happened, and Bucky hadn’t even thought about finding something smaller. He felt stupid not to have noticed she couldn’t be very comfortable, but then comfort wasn’t exactly his forte.

“Miss Potts wants to know if you would like new clothes.” He relayed.

“Why?”

“Because she is nice.” Bucky said, realising with a shock that he meant it. He liked Pepper – she was thoughtful, and calm, and welcoming. He felt like out of all the adults, he trusted her the most.

Nat screwed up her nose. “I do not want to take anything from the Americans.”

“It will be easier to move around.” He pointed out.

She considered that, and then shocked him again by hanging her head. “You are right. I should not have let my feelings get in the way of an advantage. I am sorry.”

“Uh, it’s fine. Maybe just stop giving them such a hard time for being American? They can’t help it.”

She giggled softly, his brows shooting up. Pepper looked equally surprised.

“She says she would appreciate clothes, thank you.”

“Any preferences?”

“Practical,” he said, “No dresses.”

“I can do that. You know, the house is at your disposal if you two want something to do. Jarvis can put a movie on, or you can use the pool, or the games room. There are plenty of books in the library, though not children’s ones.”

“We’re alright, Miss Potts.”

“Pepper.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

She sighed but her smile was kind. “You’re as bad as Steve.”

Bucky flinched, picking at his crusts. “Is he, uh, is he around?”

“He’s trying to make contact with Thor, as the resident magic expert,” Pepper’s voice dipped lower, like she was containing a laugh, “You know, I haven’t seen him this happy in months.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “Something must have put him a good mood, and I don’t think it’s his teammates getting turned into children.”

She got up to rinse her plate, leaving Bucky to chew thoughtfully.

*****

The scientists showed no sign of slowing down for dinner, so Bucky and Nat ate in the kitchen with Pepper again, though this time Bruce joined them. Afterwards she cajoled them into watching some kid’s movie Bucky didn’t know, Russian subtitles on for Natasha’s benefit. Both kids fell asleep on the couch, no matter how hard the redhead tried to stay awake, and rather than disturb them he left them where they were and curled up on the floor, trying to catch a nap.

He must have been more tired than he’d realised, or all the tension of the last day had finally caught up with him, because Bucky didn’t stir for the rest of the night. When he woke up Bruce and Natasha were watching a brightly coloured TV show, the girl wearing a pair of headphones that plugged into the TV. Her eyes snapped straight to him as he sat up, a small smile playing across her face.

“Good morning.”

“Mornin’,” he rubbed his chin, “What time is it?”

“Seven. Stark and Miss Potts are in their bedroom. There are five agents in the dining room and four more sleeping upstairs. Captain Rogers and Agent Barton left twenty minutes ago in a vehicle, but I couldn’t hear where they were going.”

“Good. Are you hungry?”

She shrugged and he turned to Bruce.

“Bruce, are you hungry?”

“A bit.”

“I’ll see if I can make breakfast.”

He got up, Natasha following without comment, and the pair skirted the dining room to approach the kitchen from the other side as before. After watching Pepper Bucky thought he had a fair idea where everything was, and he investigated the pantry for a minute before taking down a box of Cocoa Krispies. He turned to find Nat holding three bowls and three spoons. Bucky got the milk out of the fridge, carrying the whole lot back to the living room.

They demolished a bowl each in silence, still watching the show. Bucky was kind of surprised how interested Natasha seemed, since she hadn’t been impressed by the movie the night before.

“Is it good?” he gestured at the screen.

“It is different.” She said simply.

“What do they show you at Red Room?”

“News reels. American propaganda. Western pop culture. Disney. MTV. I do not remember Sesame Street being like this.”

“Well, a lot’s changed since the ‘80s,” he smiled wryly, “We just haven’t caught up.”

 

After a couple of hours Pepper appeared with two plastic bags, smiling at the trio as they sat on the floor in front of the couch.

“I’ve got some clothes, if you guys wanna change.”

She set them on the coffee table and neither of the kids moved. Bucky reached forward, opening one bag to pull out a pair of jeans too big for either of them. He gave Pepper a confused look.

“I thought you might want something clean.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re a guest too.”

“I…I can’t repay you.”

She frowned. “You don’t have to. You’re here, helping with the kids. You got them to us safely. _We’re_ the ones in _your_ debt.”

“I don’t understand.”

Pepper reached out tentatively, drawing her hand back for a second before finally resting it on his shoulder. “We want you to be comfortable, since you’re going out of your way to help. Let us show our gratitude?”

He nodded stiffly, still not sure why she was bothering, but knowing she wanted him to accept. He took out a fresh white t-shirt and sealed pairs of socks and underwear, and it seemed to encourage the children to poke through the bags as well. Bruce held up a blue button down and threw a shy glance at Natasha. Pepper smiled, offering a hand.

“You can change upstairs, Bruce.”

He bundled up the new clothes against his chest and took her hand, letting her lead him out. Bucky glanced at Natasha.

“You want to go upstairs too?”

“Watch the door so the Americans do not sneak up on me.”

He moved to the doorway, keeping an ear out as he half-listened to her change behind him. He didn’t offer to help, but it sounded like she had everything under control anyway. After a couple of moments she tugged at his pants leg, wearing a black tee with jeans and a red hoodie that she’d left unzipped.

“I will watch for you.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped, laying his holsters and sheaths on the coffee table where he could reach them in a hurry, and threw on the new stuff. The jeans felt stiff but not uncomfortable, and the shirt was nicer than he was used to. He fastened his various weapons back in place and stashed the dirty clothes under the couch, where he could retrieve them later.

“Someone is coming.” Natasha whispered.

Bucky listened for a second. “It’s only Bruce and Pepper. You hear the difference in the length of their strides?”

She concentrated, nodding, and retreated away from the door before it opened. As the other two came in, Bucky hear the distant sound of a gate opening. He moved to the window, peering out through the blinds, and saw an SUV pulling up the drive with Steve behind the wheel, and Director Fury in the passenger seat.

 

He didn’t immediately break into a sweat, but he did jerk away from the window. When he glanced at Pepper, Natasha was regarding him with sudden concern and an alertness that looked wrong on her childish face.

“I should go.”

“Why?” the CEO frowned. The car close enough now that she could hear it, and she glanced at the window with a baffled look.

He shouldn’t wait, or he’d be trapped. Bucky headed for the living room door and Nat followed right behind him.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

Bucky paused, considering the best route out of the house without being seen from the front door. If he could stay out of sight until the director was inside, he could take his stolen car and make a break for the gate.

“There’s a man here I tried to take out.”

“He is a threat?” her tone turned icy.

“Not to you. You should stay here.”

“If you are leaving, he must be dangerous. I will not trust him.”

He didn’t have time to argue with her, and he had no doubt she would absolutely follow him if he tried to sneak out. Bucky growled under his breath. Why hadn’t he just left as soon as he’d delivered them to Tony?

He couldn’t leave, but he could hide. He hurried up the stairs and back to the empty games room, hunkering down underneath the dart board. Natasha crouched with him, her breathing so soft he wouldn’t have noticed it without his advanced hearing.

“You should go back downstairs. Fury will want to see you. If you stay here with me, he’ll just come looking for us.”

“You promise not to leave?”

Bucky sighed. “I swear it.”

She bit her lip, eyes flicking to the door. “He is their general?”

“He’s head of SHIELD, yeah.”

“Then he will have questions. He will want to hear what happened from you.”

Bucky grimaced. “Probably.”

She stood, offering a hand. “Come with me.”

He stared at her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Do you trust me, comrade James?”

 

There was only one sensible answer to that if he wanted to keep _her_ trust, so he stood and took her hand. She led him back downstairs, footsteps cautious. Steve, Clint and Fury stood in the entry with Pepper and Bruce, and they all looked up as Nat and Bucky appeared. Steve’s mouth twitched with something that wasn’t relief or concern but a bit of both. Clint smiled widely, winking at the redhead. And Fury’s one eye burned into Bucky like a laser, terrifying and absolutely unimpressed.

Natasha didn’t seem to care, marching straight to the director with her head up. “Sergeant Barnes is under my protection, Director Fury. If you want me to cooperate, you must leave him alone.”

He looked at her with wry amusement for a moment. “You haven’t changed, Romanov. Mr Barnes is in no danger from me or my people.”

“Bucky’s just as welcome here as everyone else, right?” Steve said fiercely, glancing at Pepper.

“Of course. He’s been a real help.”

Fury didn’t look convinced but Bucky met his gaze blankly, keeping his fear tightly locked away. It was easy really, since he was too stunned by Nat’s impassioned defence to be scared.

“We were just telling the director Thor has gone to Asgard to ask his dad for help.” Clint said in Russian, eyes on Natasha.

“Asgard is a fairy tale.” She frowned.

“We should get you caught up on some stuff. Want me to show you how to use the Internet?”

She glanced at Bucky askance and he gave a tiny nod.

“You may show me, Agent Barton.”

“Buck, you wanna come for a walk?” Steve asked, “I thought we could do a sweep of the grounds. There’s been a lot of coming and going, and I want to make sure we haven’t attracted the wrong attention.”

He wanted to say no, but they should double-check the security and he didn’t really trust anyone else to do the job as well as him. Steve had trapped him and he was pretty sure the blond knew it. Bucky shrugged, avoiding the stare Fury was giving him. Better to look cooperative and helpful, if that was keeping him in one piece.

“Sure. Natalia will be fine with Agent Barton for a while.”

 

They left the house, starting out in a clockwise loop not far from the outer fence. Bucky kept his eyes moving, jaw clenched as he walked briskly.

“Look, I should have warned you Fury was coming. I’m an idiot, but then you know that.” Steve smiled.

Bucky gave a soft snort. He wasn’t wrong. “S’fine.”

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s not here for you, and I’m sure he doesn’t take the, uh, mess in D.C. personal.”

“Three bullets in the torso’s pretty personal, Rogers.”

“You were following orders.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad guy either. We’ve all done stuff – Fury included – we weren’t proud of later, and you didn’t even get a say in your actions.”

“I didn’t kill you.” Bucky said quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “I appreciate it. Wouldn’t have held it against you if you had, though.”

Bucky frowned at him incredulously. “You’ve taken too many hits to the noggin, Rogers.”

“Maybe. I didn’t have you around to watch my back.”

They were silent as they continued along their circuit, the ex-assassin avoiding Steve’s gaze.

“I gotta say I’m surprised you’ve made it this long. Chargin’ into a showdown without your Kevlar? Tossin’ your shield aside? You were always reckless, but you were never stupid.”

“I went through a dark patch.”

Bucky understood that. He didn’t pry, his own emotions and thoughts too raw to handle Steve’s too, and the captain didn’t push.

“Nat really seems to like you.”

“She just likes the way I do things.”

“She stood up to Fury for you.”

“I didn’t ask her to.” Bucky frowned at him.

“I know. She did it cos she wanted to – and she’s not the only one who thinks you’re worth protecting.”

“Steve,” he closed his eyes, “If you knew the things I’d done…”

“It wasn’t you, Buck.”

“It _was_. My head might have been messed up but I was still the one who pulled the trigger.”

The blond grabbed his shoulder. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“But I did. I didn’t kill you. Hell, I dived into the fuckin’ river to drag you out, and I didn’t even really know who you were.”

Steve frowned. “You think you could have broken HYDRA’s control sooner? Buck, it took a _lot_ to jog your memory – like you said, you weren’t even sure who I was, and I was right in your face trying to remind you. Whatever they did to you, they were thorough. I don’t think you could have done anything more.”

“How can you be sure?” he hunched his shoulders, “Maybe I was just weak. Maybe I let them do it.”

“Buck, you’re not weak.” He said, and he sounded heartbroken.

Bucky sniffed, glancing around. “We should keep moving.”

He walked on, not caring if Steve followed, and only vaguely aware of the captain racing to catch up.


	3. Chapter 3

Their routine was pretty consistent for a couple of days. Bucky was good at routine, and the kids seemed to find it comforting, and it meant there was always something to do. He’d coordinate breakfast, sometimes with Pepper’s help, and then they either watched something together or he’d sit quietly with Nat while Bruce and Tony watched the SHIELD researchers work. They’d have lunch, and then more of the same until dinner, where they were usually joined by Steve and Clint and the others. Bucky slept in the hall outside the kids’ rooms, light enough to keep track of every movement downstairs. He avoided Fury as much as possible, and he ducked Steve’s attempts to hang out unless he really couldn’t find a way out.

Clint was showing them funny videos on Youtube in the lounge room, Bruce giggling a lot more than Natasha, though Bucky still caught the odd smile on her face. None of it really made sense to him, but he found Clint’s presence sort of soothing because he respected the man’s skills, and it always felt better having a second pair of eyes to keep an eye out for threats.

There was a massive flash outside and a boom so loud Bruce jumped off the couch. Bucky was at the window in an instant, Nat peering over the back of the seat as Clint vaulted over to scan the yard.

“Ah,” he smiled, “Thor’s here.”

He patted Bucky on the shoulder in a friendly gesture and hurried into the hall. Both children had gone quiet, watching Bucky for reassurance. He raised a finger to his lips and moved closer to the door. A moment later they could hear enthusiastic voices as the others greeted the Asgardian, and a minute after that Pepper appeared with a smile.

“Hey kids, do you mind if we borrow Bucky?”

“Why me?” the sniper frowned.

“Steve thought you might want to hear the news. I can watch these guys for a bit.”

He turned to Natasha, who was regarding him expectantly. “I need to talk to the adults. Stay here and behave for Miss Potts.”

The redhead nodded, and he thought she _might_ obey. Just in case, he cleared his throat as he passed Pepper.

“She’s got a letter opener in her sock, by the way.”

The woman’s expression didn’t waver. “Thanks.”

Bucky left, following voices until he reached Stark’s study. Fury was leaning against the edge of the desk, the other men sitting around Thor. The god looked up brightly as Bucky entered.

“Ah, you must be Sergeant Barnes. Welcome, friend of Steve.”

“Thanks.”

Clint gave him a strained smile. “Thor here was just telling us we’re screwed.”

 

“Screwed?” Bucky glanced at Steve.

“Apparently without the sorcerer who cast the spell, there’s no way to break it.” He said gloomily.

“Oh,” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up, “Sorry, I – I wouldn’t have taken him out if I’d known – I just thought-”

“It’s fine, Barnes,” Tony waved a hand, “He was gonna pop Romanov and Bruce unless you intervened. You didn’t know it was gonna be a problem.”

Thor shook his head. “It would most likely not have made a difference. His spell has very serious ramifications, and even if he were here I am not convinced it can be reversed.”

“You’re telling me there’s nothing we can do to change them back?” Fury scowled.

Thor shrugged. “I heard it from the Allfather myself. There is no way to retrieve their adult selves without folding time upon itself, which would be disastrous for life throughout the realm.”

“I don’t care about the realm,” the director snapped, “I want my agents back. Could he do it?”

The prince gave him a piercing look. “Not without weakening the fabric of reality itself.”

“I say we give that option a miss, sir.” Steve hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

“It is no simple enchantment, like a transfiguration or an illusion. Their very minds and bodies have been unmade. How could that be remedied? Their memories are _gone_ , Director – everything that made them Bruce and Natasha is lost.”

“So they’re stuck like this,” Fury sighed and rubbed a hand over his brow, “Okay. We’ll have to place Agent Romanov and Dr Banner with foster families and keep an eye on them in case anyone figures out who they used to be and comes to settle the score.”

“Uh, excuse me?” Tony arched a brow, “You will do nothing of the sort. I’ll adopt them.”

“You really think you’re an appropriate role model for a couple of troubled kids, Stark?” Fury’s mouth twitched like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

“I think there’s no way we’re gonna let you send our teammates away, especially when they need us more than ever. Plus I’ve got the resources to give them everything they could ever need, and Pep to handle the emotional stuff.”

“I’ll take Tash,” Clint frowned, folding his arms, “She’s part of the family, and I know how to talk to her.”

“Barton,” Fury said gently, “She’s not the same Romanov she used to be. In her mind, she’s still training to fight and kill people like us. I don’t think bringing her into your home, with your _vulnerable people_ , is a good idea.”

Steve glanced at Tony, who shrugged. He didn’t know what the director meant either.

“Sir, it’s Tash. I can’t give up on her.”

“You may feel that way, but she doesn’t know you. She doesn’t trust you. And I don’t think she’s gonna behave long enough for you to reconnect,” Fury looked at Tony, “For that matter, she probably won’t wanna stay with you either. I’m certain your name, and your father’s, are familiar – and not in a good way.”

“Well you can’t stick her in foster care,” Steve said, “They won’t be able to handle her any better than us.”

Bucky had been staying out of the conversation since he didn’t think he had much of a say, but something about the way they were casually tossing around Nat’s future made him angry. He rolled his head lazily to glare at the director. “Here’s a crazy idea - why don’t you ask the kid what she wants?”

“She’s five and in a foreign country surrounded by strangers, Barnes,” Fury glowered, “Oh, and she thinks it’s 1989. She can’t make that kind of decision.”

“You’ll never be able to force her to do anything she doesn’t want, so you might as well consult her.”

“He’s got a point, sir.” Barton regarded Bucky with an approving look that made him feel like a fraud.

Fury sighed. “We can’t let her dictate the terms, because we all know she wants to get back to the Motherland, and we absolutely cannot let the Russians use her again.”

“So we’ll come up with a couple of scenarios and give her a choice,” Tony shrugged, “She still gets to feel slightly in control, and she’ll be more willing to cooperate.”

Clint nodded. “That might work.”

Fury laughed. “With Romanov? Nothing’s ever that easy.”

 

They decided to talk to the kids separately so neither of them felt pressured by the other’s presence. Tony, Pepper and Steve sat Bruce down in the lounge room, the genius and his CEO holding hands anxiously.

“Bruce,” Steve started, “You know we’ve been trying to find a way to make you and Natasha big again?”

“Yeah,” he nodded solemnly, “Tony said someone might need to use magic to fix me. Is that what’s happening?”

The blond grimaced. “No. We talked to our friends who understand that sort of thing and according to their experts, there’s no way to undo it.”

The boy took a breath, eyes on his hands. “So I’m going to stay like this?”

“Not forever,” Tony said quickly, “You’ll grow up like normal. It’s just gonna take the standard amount of time, since we can’t speed it up.”

Bruce’s lip wobbled, his eyes carefully avoiding theirs. “So, um, if it’s really the future and my parents aren’t around, what’s going to happen to me?”

Pepper smiled. “Tony and I would like you to stay with us.”

“It’ll be great, kiddo,” the engineer beamed, “I’ll finally have someone to help me gang up on Pepper.”

“It’s up to you though,” Steve said firmly, “If you want we can find someone you’re more comfortable with to adopt you. There are plenty of nice people out there who want to help out kids who need a family.”

Bruce blinked, eyeing the captain for a moment before considering Tony and Pepper again. He cleared his throat.

“I’d like to stay with Pepper and Mr Stark, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fantastic!” the genius blurted, quickly silenced by an elbow to the ribs.

“We’re really glad to have you here, Bruce.” The redhead smiled fondly.

He returned it with a blush, adjusting his glasses. “What about Tasha?”

Steve grimaced. “Tasha has special needs because of her background. We’re gonna ask her what she’d like to do, but chances are she won’t stay.”

“Oh. Okay.” He said quietly.

“Is that alright?” Steve’s brow twitched.

“I like Tasha, but she’s kinda scary.” He admitted.

Tony laughed. “Yeah, she scares me too, buddy. But it’s only cos she doesn’t feel relaxed with us. If she wants to stay, we’ll help her work on that.”

“Sound good?” Pepper squeezed his knee gently.

Bruce nodded and she stood.

“Come on; we’re gonna need to get you some more clothes.”

 

Natasha had a much bigger audience. Fury, Clint, Tony, Pepper and Steve crammed themselves onto one couch so Nat would be able to see them all at once, and not worry about having someone at her back. Bucky sat in the chair closest to her, where he could whisper softly if she had a question she didn’t want the others to hear. The little Russian looked very grave as she perched on the edge of the cushion, hands in her lap.

“Natalia,” he said, deciding not to bullshit her, “We cannot find a way to reverse what the man in blue did. We cannot make you adult again.”

She looked relieved. “What will you do with me?”

“There are a couple of choices,” Fury continued, also in Russian, “You can live with Agent Barton and his family, or you can stay with Stark and Miss Potts. Bruce is staying with them, so you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I want to go home.”

“That’s not possible. A lot of time has passed and things are different. Your home isn’t there anymore.”

She glanced at Bucky worriedly. “I do not want to stay with these Americans I do not know.”

“I get it,” he said, “But do you wanna go back to the Motherland and live with strangers there? It won’t be how you left it. And trust me, the kind of people you want to go back to do not have your best interests at heart.”

Her eyes flicked to his arm. “They hurt you.”

“They hurt you too - you just don’t remember it.”

She stuck her lip out and met Fury’s eyes with a gaze too old for a child. “I want to stay with Comrade Barnes.”

If Bucky hadn’t known better, he would have called the director’s expression shock. His own brows just about leapt off his face, and his throat felt swollen shut. Tony coughed discreetly into his hand to hide a chuckle. Steve looked lost.

“What did she say?” he asked Bucky.

“She wants to stay with Barnes.” Tony helpfully supplied.

“It’s not a good idea,” Fury said to the girl, “Mr Barnes cannot provide a stable environment. He doesn’t have anywhere for the two of you to live.”

“I want to stay with Comrade Barnes.” She said stubbornly, arms crossed over her chest with an attitude that implied it was her final word on the subject.

“Mr Stark is much better equipped to look after you. Agent Barton has children of his own for you to play with. Either of them would be a more practical choice.” The director tried.

Bucky frowned at her. “Tony and Clint can protect you, if that’s what you’re worried about. You don’t need me.”

“I do not trust them,” she said, “I trust you.”

It was still a lie – Natasha didn’t trust anyone – but it was close enough to the truth that it didn’t make a difference, and Bucky felt like his head was going to explode. He didn’t know how to take care of children. How was he supposed to raise a child like Nat, with her own psychological problems and triggers, when he was still sorting through the debris in his own head?

“What about Steve?” he attempted feebly, voice petering out as she gave him a scathing look.

“I want to stay with you.” She said, voice like iron, and Bucky’s heart sank.

 

They stood in Tony’s kitchen, the captain scratching his head while Clint moped on a bar stool and Fury scowled out the window at nothing in particular.

“If she wants to stay with Barnes, let her,” Tony said, “We can’t make her pick someone else, and he’s got the tools to keep an eye on her and control any…undesirable behaviour.”

“Buck’s got his own problems.” Steve frowned.

Fury didn’t turn to look at them. “I wouldn’t trust either of them around normal people, let alone together. They’re both compromised.”

“It’s what Nat wants,” Clint shook his head, “I thought we agreed we’d go along with her decision.”

“I agreed to let her choose between two pre-approved options, Barton. That is not the same thing.”

“We wouldn’t exactly be dumping her on him and leaving them to get into trouble,” Tony pointed out, “SHIELD can bankroll housing, psych appointments, groceries, tutors and whatever, and I’m happy to pitch in if you’d rather keep it off the books. Steve will be around keeping an eye on Barnes anyway, and with all your fancy surveillance I’m sure you can intervene before anything goes full FUBAR.”

“We can’t ask Bucky to do this,” Steve clenched his fists, “He’s just getting his life back. He was HYDRA’s puppet for seventy years – seventy years, Tony. Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take him to move past that? To fully believe that he’s free, and come to terms with what happened? He shouldn’t be taking on any extra responsibility right now.”

“Maybe it would be good for him.” Clint suggested.

Fury made a flippant sound.

“Well it could be,” the archer insisted, “Having kids is usually a real kick in the ass for most people to get their shit together. Maybe looking after Natasha would give Barnes something to focus on outside himself. Having someone who trusts him, who doesn’t know his history…maybe it would make it easier for him to accept the past and keep looking forwards.”

“I don’t even understand why we’re debating this,” Tony scoffed, “She _chose_ Barnes. End of story.”

“Do you trust him with her?” Fury asked.

“Sure. The guy’s got a brain like scrambled eggs and yet he not only killed the asshole trying to do away with our friends, but brought them to me for safekeeping at great personal risk, and then hung around to make sure they were comfortable and protected while we tried to figure out if we could transform them back again. He’s earned my trust.”

“Forgive me if I don’t share the sentiment, but the man tried to kill a couple of the people in this room not long ago – and Natasha herself, back in the day.”

“Buck won’t hurt her,” Steve said grimly, “He might not be himself right now but he couldn’t hurt a child.”

Fury stared him down. “I bet that hasn’t stopped him in the past.”

 

Bucky sat next to Nat, trying not to squirm in his seat as he waited for the other adults to finish their discussion. The kitchen was on the far side of the house so he couldn’t eavesdrop, but Natasha kept staring at him and it was unnerving.

“They don’t want me to stay with you.” She broke the silence.

“They hate the idea.”

“Do you hate it?”

He flinched. “I’m uh, I’m not exactly paternal, Natalia. I think you’d be better off with Agent Barton or Tony. They know what to do with kids.”

“I am not a child,” she said, “I am an agent of the Motherland, like you used to be. You will understand me better than them.”

He couldn’t argue with that, though he thought Clint would have given it a good shot. “I don’t have a house or a job or money.”

“You can get them. Or we will travel together.”

Bucky scowled. “What if I don’t want to?”

Nat shrugged. “Then ask your leader to send me home.”

“He’s not my leader.” Bucky griped, but it was a weak argument and he knew it.

He sort of admired the way the girl was sticking to her guns. She was certainly more self-aware than he was, and more determined. He thought about the two of them living together and shook his head. It would be a disaster.

But then he remembered what it had been like growing up with his sisters. It was blurry, the memories old enough that they would have been hazy even without all the damage to his brain, but they were pleasant ones. He could almost remember feeding and dressing them and making sure they did their schoolwork. Maybe his childrearing skills were still there, buried under everything else. And what about his other skills? Natasha needed someone who could protect her if company came calling, someone who saw the world through similar eyes, someone who could show her how to break free of the KGB conditioning. Bucky wasn’t sure he was quite there himself yet, but he could certainly help her – she’d only been at the Red Room for a year or two, and she had the malleability of a child. Maybe he _was_ the best person to look after her, even if he had trouble looking after himself sometimes.

He made a decision, offering her his shiny left hand. “I’d like to stay together, if we can.”

Natasha took it with a smug smile that meant she’d always known he’d cave, just as Fury and the others returned. Bucky’s pulse spiked, certain the director was about to say he couldn’t live up to the quasi-promise he’d just made. The older spy stared at them both for a minute, hands on his hips.

“Aw hell, Barnes,” he sighed, “Let’s find the two of you an apartment.”

*****

When presented with choosing a place to live, Bucky only had two criteria: it couldn’t be Washington or Brooklyn, and it couldn’t be near any HYDRA safehouses, which ruled out Manhattan. Steve had been living at Stark Tower and seemed pretty adamant that now Bucky was finally putting down roots, he should move in too. But Bucky didn’t want to be trapped in the cold glass walls of New York’s biggest target, under the watchful eyes of Tony’s surveillance and any SHIELD bugs that slipped into his system. It was a tower – there was one way in and one way out, and once he was up in the sky he was trapped. He had his own security requirements from decades of silent hunting and watching his back, and he needed a place where he could control the environment.

Steve looked like a kicked puppy at the idea of him living more than an elevator ride away, and under other circumstances maybe Bucky would have budged for his friend’s sake. But he had Natasha to worry about now and her security came first. He cut Fury out of the selection process too, letting Tony guide him through the confusing world of Jersey City real estate.

“It’s got easy access to planes, trains, and ships,” he said in response to Clint’s disgusted look, “And it’s big enough that no one will notice us, but small enough that anyone in the trade is gonna stick out.”

“It’s _Jersey_.”

“Aren’t you from Iowa?”

“What’s your point?”

“How about this place?” Tony spun his laptop to face the ex-soldier, “Nice sunny kitchen, wraparound porch, your own backyard-”

“Natalia,” Bucky looked down at the girl sitting quietly beside him, “Tell Mr Stark what is wrong with this house.”

“There are too many trees on the street,” she answered, “And the windows are too big. Snipers would be able to get close.”

“Correct,” Bucky glanced at Tony to make sure he’d understood, “What else?”

“There is no fence. The carport is not enclosed. There are bushes on either side of the front steps. There are-”

“Alright, alright!” Tony seethed, “I get it. Security nightmare. Maybe you could be more specific about what you’re looking for?”

“An apartment. Houses are too easy to surround, and the neighbours pay a lot more attention when someone moves in.”

“Okay. Top floor, ground floor, front, back?”

“Equal distance between the roof and the street, but not more than three storeys up, and close to an exit stair without being directly adjacent. Back of the building is better.”

“Jesus,” the genius muttered, “This is why I built my own place.”

“We’re not all trillionaires, Tony.” Clint rolled his eyes.

“Neither am I. Technically.”

Bucky ignored them, turning to Natasha. “What colour room would you like?”

She looked confused, though the only change to her expression was a tiny wrinkle between her brows. “Colour?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “This is going to be our place. We can make it look however we want.”

She didn’t respond, and he placed his hand over hers fleetingly.

“Think about it.”

 

Once they’d found a place Bucky deemed acceptable and Tony had cut a cheque with more zeroes than the sergeant wanted to think about, they went furniture shopping. Pepper was busy making arrangements to formally adopt Bruce and accommodate a child at the Tower, but she lent Bucky her assistant to trail after him from store to store and make a list of everything they wanted. He could see how uncomfortable Natasha was whenever he asked her to pick what she liked, and honestly Bucky didn’t feel much more confident than the girl. He was used to having things provided, no questions asked, no complaints heeded.

“How about we play a game?” he asked when she hesitated over choosing a bed, “You and I will both pick one, and then we’ll flip a coin to see which one we get.”

Natasha smiled. “I pick this one.”

Bucky looked around and pointed to a plain white frame that would go with anything. “I pick that one. Heads we go with yours, tails we go with mine.”

He took a coin from his pocket and flicked it into the air, catching it on the back of his right hand.

“Heads,” he looked at Pepper’s assistant, “Natalia will have this bed, thank you.”

The coin toss made it easy; the element of chance removed any pressure of making the ‘right’ choice, and it meant both of them had an equal sense of ownership over their final selections. It was _their_ furniture, not something Bucky was forcing on her, even if he knew she wouldn’t have objected to him making all the decisions by himself. They both needed to learn it was okay to have opinions, but he was acutely aware how overwhelming that concept could be.

After furniture there was clothes shopping, which made him infinitely grateful the assistant was there, since he hadn’t paid attention to fashion since the Forties. And once they had a whole truckload of belongings en route to the new place, Bucky took Nat to a tiny diner and sat her down with a burger and a milkshake for what he knew was going to be an unpopular announcement.

“We need to find a tutor to teach you English.”

The redhead frowned. “You do it.”

“I’m not a teacher,” he shook his head, “And I was always better at math than grammar and spelling.”

“I don’t want a tutor.”

“You’re going to need to be able to communicate without me translating all the time.”

“So teach me.”

“Natalia,” he muttered, “I’m not going to let anyone near you unless they check out. You don’t need to worry about security, okay?”

She fiddled with her straw, eyeing him sidelong. “I want you to teach me.”

Bucky sighed and stuck out his hand. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll teach you for six months, and after that you get a tutor. And you have to try to use what you know when we’re in public or around Steve and the others, alright? You can’t make me do all the talking for you.”

“It is a deal.” She took his hand.

“Six months and not a day more.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he said gruffly to hide a smile, “Now drink your milkshake.”

 

Bucky felt more comfortable with a motorbike than a car, since they were a lot easier to guide through traffic in the event he needed to make a fast getaway, but they also didn’t offer much protection for the rider. He didn’t want to put Natasha at risk of catching a stray bullet if someone started shooting at them (and no matter what Steve said, there was a huge chance HYDRA were eagerly hunting him down to get their best weapon back). Besides, a single father with a daughter should have a car; it would attract a lot less attention.

But in the end he didn’t need to buy one, because when they showed up at the new apartment there was a shiny dark blue sedan waiting in the garage with a Stark Industries business card tucked under the windshield wiper.

“I guess it’s a present.” He said.

Natasha smiled mischievously. “It looks fast.”

Bucky laughed. “If it’s from Tony, it probably is. Come on, let’s get upstairs. There’s lots to unpack.”

They didn’t head straight up, taking a few minutes to inspect the building and its surrounds. It all looked as secure as Bucky had requested, just a normal suburban street with kids riding bikes and people mowing their lawns. He led Nat to their apartment and unlocked the door.

Tony and Pepper had tried to convince him to let their people take care of setting things up, but he’d insisted it was important Natasha felt involved in making it their home and Clint had backed him up. The living room was full of boxes and furniture, some of it waiting to be assembled. There was a neat, simple kitchen with stools for eating at the counter. The bathroom was next to that, and then their bedrooms. Bucky’s was closer to the entrance and the windows looking from the living room into the backyard, while Natasha’s didn’t have windows at all.

“Where should we start?” he asked, hiding his genuine uncertainty.

“Beds.” She said decisively.

“Good choice.”

Natasha started looking through the pile of boxes and Bucky thought maybe, just maybe, they could handle this.

*****

Bucky wouldn’t have been able to get a job even if he was stable enough to do so, because he had to supervise Natasha. He knew the others were hoping after a year or two she’d be able to go to a normal school with kids her own age, but he doubted it. There were things she’d learned in the Red Room that couldn’t be unlearned. She was too alert, too suspicious, too serious. She wouldn’t lose the feeling that she needed to always watch her back, no matter how much time passed. Lessons like that stuck; her trainers would have made sure of it.

But since he couldn’t work, their bills got ‘handled’. He was pretty sure Tony and Steve took turns, and maybe Clint too – wetwork paid well enough. In some ways it made him feel bad, like he shouldn’t be taking their charity, but it was also a huge relief. He didn’t need money problems on top of everything else.

Sticking with the idea that routine was good for both of them, he tried to make the days as consistent as possible. He woke up at five and worked out for a couple of hours, then made breakfast. Natasha was fine to dress herself and do her own hair, which suited him fine. They ate together, and then they worked on her English. He had a feeling she was hoping to learn enough from him that he wouldn’t insist on a tutor at the end of the six months. Bucky wasn’t looking forward to that argument.

In the afternoons they worked their way through a stack of elementary exercise books so Nat wouldn’t fall behind in the rest of her education. Bucky could already tell she was smarter than him, but he didn’t mind; it was nice watching her do well. He felt like at least one of them had a shot at making something out of their sorry situation in the future.

They cooked dinner together, and usually watched a movie or TV show so Nat could practice listening to other people’s English. Then they went to bed, and Bucky would stay awake til midnight anxiously clutching his blankets and waiting for an attack that never came.

One morning he was in the middle of his stretches when Nat padded out in her pyjamas and settled into a perfect horse stance beside him. Bucky glanced at her askance, and she watched him with a hint of doubt in her gaze, the first he’d seen.

“How long can you hold that?” he asked.

“Ten minutes.” She made a face.

“That’s not bad for your age. Show me what else you can do.”

She joined him for training every morning after that, and Bucky decided he liked the company.

 

They’d been living together two weeks when the secure line rang. Bucky answered without thinking.

“ _Zdravstvuj?_ ”

“Uh…Buck?”

He pinched his nose with a curse. “Yeah, sorry. Habit.”

“Oh,” Steve chuckled, “Fair enough. How are things?”

“Good. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, I was hopin’ I could come by and see ya. Both of ya.”

Bucky hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the blond, since it always made his flashbacks and nightmares worse, but he couldn’t avoid Steve forever. And Nat needed exposure to other people, especially functioning adults.

“Sure. You got an idea when?”

“This afternoon? If that’s okay. I could bring a cake or somethin’ for afternoon tea.”

“That’d be great. See ya about three?”

“Yeah,” the captain sounded a lot more enthusiastic, “See you at three.”

Bucky hung up and took a breath. He could handle this, just like any other mission. What were the prep requirements for afternoon tea? He glanced around the apartment and decided it was clean enough: he and Nat were both naturally tidy people, so everything went in its proper place when it wasn’t being used. He had coffee and juice and liquid things, and Steve was bringing cake. Maybe they needed biscuits? He ate a lot, and he knew Steve had the same metabolism.

“Natalia!” he called.

She wandered in a moment later, wearing a white tee and black shorts with her hair in two neat braids.

“We’re going to the store. Get your shoes and, uh, maybe a hat?”

She disappeared to get ready and he grabbed a button-down and a white glove to cover his arm. It was too warm for it, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Maybe he could ask Stark to take a look at the thing and engineer some kind of cloaking system? He’d probably earned some goodwill with the man, and Bucky trusted him not to mess with it (even though the idea of _anyone_ touching it made his skin crawl).

He pocketed his keys, wallet and phone and slapped on a baseball cap and some sunnies to hide his face. Nat returned in a white floppy hat and smiled at him.

“You look very ordinary, James.”

“Thanks, I think,” Bucky hesitated, “Are you carrying?”

She didn’t move, expression blank like she was waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Show me.”

The girl lifted the back of her shirt to reveal a small knife tucked into the waistband of her shorts, angled so she could reach it in a hurry. She gave Bucky that same curious stare.

“Don’t use it unless I say, alright?”

“What if you are compromised?”

“Then I sure as hell don’t want you hangin’ around to fight it out – if something happens to me, you run. Understood? If you can get to Stark Tower, they’ll take care of you. Otherwise I’ll give you Steve’s number so you can lay low and wait for him.”

She grimaced and he crouched so they were at eye level, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Promise me. I know you don’t trust them but they won’t hurt you.”

“I promise.” She said softly.

“Good. Let’s go shopping.”

 

Bucky could hear Steve as the motorbike got close, and he fought down a wince. Maybe he’d politely suggest the blond borrow something more inconspicuous from Tony for their next visit.

“We’ve got company.” He said.

Natasha looked up from her book. “Do you want me to go to my room?”

“No, Steve’s here to see you too. I just thought you might want to get comfortable.”

She shifted from the kitchen counter to one of the armchairs, where no one could sit next to her but she could see the whole room. Bucky filled the kettle and took down some mugs, mainly to keep his hands busy. After about ten seconds there was a buzz and he rushed to the intercom.

“Hey buddy,” Steve smiled for the camera, “Cake?”

Bucky grinned and buzzed him in. “It better be good, Rogers.”

Then he went to stand by the wall against the door with an automatic in hand. Natasha raised a brow but didn’t say anything, seemingly too absorbed in her reading. There was a firm knock and Bucky yanked the door open to the length of its chain, aiming the barrel through the gap.

Steve jumped back, eyes wide, cake box in hand. “Uh…hey Buck.”

“How old was I when you got beaten up by Billy McDonald?”

“Which time?” Steve snorted.

Bucky dropped his weapon and unlocked the door, waving the captain in. “Sorry about that. Security issues – had to make sure you were you.”

“No problem,” Steve gave a tight smile, “I get it.”

Bucky slipped his gun back into its holster under one of the bookshelves and gestured vaguely at Natasha.

“You wanna sit? I’ll cut the cake.”

Steve handed him the box. “Need a hand with anything?”

“Nah. You want tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, thanks.”

Bucky retreated to the kitchen, boiling the water for their drinks as he tipped a pack of Oreos onto a plate. Steve hesitantly sat on the edge of the couch nearest to Nat, clasping his hands a bit awkwardly as he smiled.

“Hey.”

She wrinkled her nose and glanced at Bucky, who gave an encouraging nod.

“Good afternoon.” She said in thickly-accented English.

 

The super soldier’s brows shot up. “That was really good.”

“She’s studying six hours a day, Rogers. I’d be insulted as a teacher if she couldn’t manage ‘Good afternoon’,” Bucky opened the cake box and scowled, “This isn’t cake.”

“It’s apple pie,” Steve called, “Your favourite.”

The brunette felt like the sticky glazed pastry had smacked him full in the face. He didn’t remember that. _Steve_ remembered his favourite, but not Bucky. He felt lost, and stupid, and broken, and at the same time he was grateful he had a friend who cared enough to remember that sort of thing. And it made him feel worse for all the bigger stuff he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t share memories with Steve the way they used to.

“Buck?”

He didn’t hear the other man, his focus skipping like a scratched record, eyes still locked on the pie as he tried and tried and tried to dig up some familiar feeling about it, some spark of recognition.

A small hand touched his. “Can I help cut the pie?”

Bucky blinked, glancing at Natasha. She gave him a smile that wouldn’t have been amiss on Pepper, and he attempted to return it, lips wobbling.

“Sure.”

He lifted her onto the counter and handed her the knife, watching closely as she marked out one small slice and two massive ones. He levered the wedges onto plates and helped her balance them, and together they got everything to the coffee table without dropping it.

“Got any ice cream?” Steve asked, “It should have brought some with me, but I didn’t think about it til I was already here.”

Bucky checked the freezer and found a tub of cookies and cream that would have to suffice, and by the time he’d brought it back Nat was in her armchair again, forcing him to take the seat next to Steve. He didn’t like having the other big man at the edge of his peripheral vision; it made it too easy to slip into thinking he was a threat. So Bucky sat on the floor instead, facing them both, and started on his pie.

And it was sweet, and still warm, and he thought maybe it could be his favourite after all. The information seemed to check out.

“So how are you two getting’ along?” Steve looked at both of them.

“Good.”

“No, uh, tantrums?” he smiled.

“I don’t think Natasha understands the concept.”

“Yeah, probably not. How good’s her English?”

 

Bucky screwed up his brow pensively. “I’m thinkin’ she’s getting’ about 35% of this conversation? The small words, mostly.”

He nodded and turned to the girl. “Hi, Nat. How are you?”

“I am well, Captain Rogers.”

“That’s great. Are you having fun with Bucky?”

The redhead frowned at her housemate. “Fun?”

He translated, but she didn’t look any less confused.

“I do not understand the question.”

Bucky growled internally. Of course Nat didn’t know about fun. “He wants to know if you like living with me.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “I have fun. We cook. We read. We train.”

“Train?” Steve looked at Bucky sharply, expression cold.

He shrugged. “Stretches and strengthening exercises, some really simple holds and throws, since we don’t have room for much more.”

“Buck, what the hell? She’s supposed to be getting a _normal_ childhood, not a repeat of last time! Jesus, we let her stay with you because I expected you to know what it felt like to be used like that.”

Nat’s eyes had widened slightly, her breathing rougher as her body tensed for action. “Did I say something bad?”

Bucky raised a hand to calm her, making sure she met his gaze.

“It’s alright, Natalia. Relax,” he slipped back into English, “Rogers, keep your voice down, alright? She doesn’t know who you’re mad at.”

The blond frowned for a second and then shook himself, looking contrite. “Sorry.”

“Training was a regular part of Natasha’s routine at the Red Room. It makes her feel more at home, and it makes her feel confident that she can protect herself in these weird new surroundings that she has no control over. I’m not raising her to be a killer, but I don’t see a problem in teaching her to defend herself.”

“God, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk.”

“Sometimes.” Bucky smirked.

“I shoulda trusted you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Bucky dropped his voice. “You don’t know me anymore. For all you know, I would.”

Steve shook his head, blue eyes watery. “No way. You’re still Bucky, no matter what you’ve been through.”

 

His gaze was too intense, and it made Bucky’s guts shift almost painfully. He crammed another piece of pie in his mouth and chewed too quickly, the rough edges scraping his throat on the way down.

“How’s Stark coping with being a dad?”

“He’s doin’ really well, actually. I expected them to get along cos they’re both geniuses, but I think Tony’s really good with the other stuff too.”

“The looking after kids stuff?”

“No,” Steve laughed, “He’s got Pepper for that, thank God. But…I don’t know if anyone mentioned to you that Bruce’s father was abusive?”

“I figured it out after he started flinching every time a guy came near him.” The ex-assassin glowered at his fork.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure he has nightmares too. But Tony knows a lot about PTSD and I think they’re really connecting, working through some of that.”

“Maybe they’ll be good for each other.”

“Maybe they’re not the only ones.” He eyed Natasha slyly.

Bucky elected to ignore him, cutting the thick crust on Nat’s pie when it became obvious she wasn’t going to ask for help.

“How you doin’, Buck? With…everything.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re all here to help, if you need it. Even if you just wanna talk. Stark can get you in to see some great psychs-”

“I’m fine, Rogers,” he took a breath, steadying his voice, “This is something I have to do myself. Everything else was done to me, so I gotta be the one to undo it.”

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Buck.”

The brunette smiled at Natasha. “I’m not.”

*****

He was lying on the table, and it felt like he’d spent most of his life on it. Sometimes when he looked up it was Zola, and sometimes it was Pierce, and sometimes it was Steve, but usually it was a stream of anonymous men in white coats who all wanted to pry into his head and wrench him out.

His hands were strapped to the chair, and his chest, and his hips too. He kicked at someone who got too close and they strapped his legs down. The rubber bit was in his mouth, bitter and choking and firm between his teeth, and the light glared at the corner of his vision where they worked on his arm.

The silver dome came down towards his face, the machine reaching out to clamp around his head, and he couldn’t scream with his mouth full, he couldn’t get the noise out. It burned in his chest, hot pressure broken up with the electric _agony_ in his brain, and the painful flashes of something he couldn’t grab onto, some memory that slipped through his mind before he could really see it.

“It is time to wake up, James.”

Nobody in the safehouses called him James. He was the Asset, or the Weapon; he was the Winter Soldier.

“That place is far away, James. You are here, with me. It’s not real.”

Soft hands touched his and Bucky screamed in a garbled rush, jerking awake.

There was a person leaning over him, two feet from his face, and his hands moved before his mind could react. Natasha’s hand flew backwards as she dropped behind the couch to avoid his strike, rolling away. Bucky stopped, recognising the apartment, his chest heaving as he leaned on the sofa. As soon as he had it under control, he scowled at her.

“What were you thinking? I could have killed you!”

“You were having a bad dream. I was careful,” Nat pouted, “I positioned myself where you would be blocked by the furniture.”

“What if I had moved faster than you anticipated?” he pointed an accusatory finger at her, “What if it had taken me longer to wake up? What if I’d had a gun?”

“I moved your firearm first.” She pointed to where it sat on the kitchen counter.

Bucky sighed. He was tired, still rattled by the nightmare and then the hot flash of fear he’d felt over almost hurting her. He wiped a shaking hand over his face and took another breath.

“Fine. I’m sorry I yelled. You startled me. Thank you for waking me up.”

She stood carefully, hands by her side. Bucky jerked his head towards the couch.

“Come here.”

Natasha walked around the couch and he pulled her onto the cushion, hugging her lightly to make sure she was really okay. The slightest blow from his metal hand was strong enough to knock her across the room and break her bones, and he felt trembly all over again. She didn’t quite seem to know how to respond to the hug, but she didn’t protest.

 

As his mind cleared, Bucky had a sudden thought. “Do you have nightmares?”

“I dream sometimes…fire, yelling. I don’t know what it means.”

“If you can’t sleep, or you have a bad dream, you can come get me and I’ll sit with you until you feel better.”

She didn’t answer, but she did finally hug him back. They sat like that until the fear sweat had cooled against Bucky’s skin and made him clammy. He should get up and shower and go to sleep in his actual bed.

“What are your nightmares about?”

Bucky closed his eyes. “They’re not really fun for me to talk about.”

“You said they hurt you,” Natasha raised a small hand, stroking it over the curves of his metal arm, “Did they do this?”

“Yes. But my arm was already gone, they just gave me a new one.”

She looked up him curiously and Bucky cleared his throat. Maybe it was better to arm her with the information, in case he had an episode or a breakdown and she needed to get out.

“I was a soldier during WWII. I got captured by an organisation called HYDRA. There was this doctor, Zola, he experimented on me. Made me fast and strong like Steve. Steve rescued me and I joined his group, the Howling Commandos. We fought HYDRA, taking down their strongholds, destroying their weapons.”

“You do not look so old.” She smiled.

Bucky snickered. “Yeah, well I eat right. Anyway, we were taking down this HYDRA train and I, uh…I fell. Landed at the bottom of the mountain, lost my arm, but I didn’t die cos of what Zola had done. And they found me, dragged me off. They did things, to my brain. I forgot who I was. They used me as an assassin and when they didn’t need me they froze me so I wouldn’t age.”

“Is that why you don’t like to see Captain Rogers?” she tilted her head, “Because he is a good man and you were a bad one?”

“Yeah. My last mission, I was supposed to kill him. But I couldn’t do it. When I saw him, I _knew_ he was my friend, even if I couldn’t remember him.”

“Were your handlers mad? Did they punish you?”

“At first, yeah. But then Steve killed them. I got away. So now I dream about it, or sometimes I remember at odd times. My brain’s still a bit messed up.”

Natasha looked thoughtful and he squeezed her hand.

“Is that okay? If you don’t trust me or you’re worried about it, you don’t have to keep living with me.”

The redhead pushed back lightly against his hold and Bucky let go. Nat climbed off the couch.

“You should go back to sleep, comrade James.”

And without another word, she went back to her room. Bucky sat there for a moment. It shouldn’t mean anything – of course Nat was too young to really understand how dangerous he could be. But that quiet acceptance somehow made him feel like his past didn’t matter. He was getting better; he was more together every day. And apparently he had Nat to help when he wasn’t.

 

Some days were better than others. Some days, Bucky could talk Nat through her lessons and take her to get groceries and fall asleep on the couch without nightmares. Some days he’d see someone on the street who looked like an old handler and freeze up, mouth gaping at nothing as he stared, oblivious to everything until the little redhead squeezed his hand. Some days he just sat her in front of the TV and spent hours curled in his chair, lost in bad memories, but those days were pretty rare so he didn’t feel like he was failing too badly when they happened.

They’d been in the apartment for six weeks, one wall slowly disappearing under a layer of charts and notes for Nat’s classes, the radio always on low in the background playing blues or swing or the aggressively fast punk rock Bucky found himself inexplicably fond of. They were sitting at the table with the laptop Tony had sent over, watching a Powerpoint about the end of the Cold War the sergeant had cobbled together from Wikipedia and old news footage. He was pretty proud of it actually, and he thought it did a decent job of meshing the official headlines with what he knew from, well, being there.

“They took the Wall down?” Natasha blinked, voice high and uncertain.

“Most of it, yeah. There are a couple of stretches left.”

“I never imagined it.” She shook her head.

“They didn’t tell you at the Red Room?” he glanced at her, “I mean this happened around the time you were there.”

“I guess they did not want us to know.”

He grunted. That made sense, if you were trying to teach a bunch of girls to whole-heartedly believe in the enduring power of the Motherland, but it wouldn’t have lasted very long once they got into the real world and realised that hey, the USSR was kind of gone.

The intercom buzzed and she clutched at his wrist, frowning. Bucky motioned for her to stay in her chair and crossed to the screen, turning on the camera. He scowled, hitting the Talk button.

“It’s good manners to call before you pay someone a visit, Barton.”

“What can I say? I’m a rebellious kinda guy.”

“I’m real reluctant to let you in, given that you didn’t give me a heads’ up. Smells fishy.”

The archer swore quietly and took his phone out of his pocket, messing around with it for a second before lifting it to his ear.

Behind him, Bucky’s phone rang. Natasha picked it up and brought it over to him, and he answered with a smirk.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Clint. Mind if I stop by?”

 

After Bucky had submitted the agent to the same test he’d used on Steve, the trio sat in the lounge and ate the ridiculous huge burgers Clint had brought with him. Natasha seemed much happier around him than she had with the captain, mainly because Clint conducted the whole conversation in Russian.

“How’s it goin’, Red? You givin’ Barnes a run for his money?”

“I do not understand this expression.”

“I mean, are you making him look like an idiot with your badass cleverness?” He waved at the posters and times tables stuck near their heads.

“James is clever,” she protested, “But his brain is fuzzy. He can’t help that.”

Bucky felt a strange swell of pride watching her defend him. “Thanks, Natalka.”

She smiled warmly at the endearment, tomato sauce dribbling down her chin. He chuckled and grabbed a napkin, catching it before she ruined her dress.

“Tell me what you think of the neighbourhood.”

“Mostly residential,” she reported flatly, “Families and young married people. No major roads for two blocks on either side. More houses than apartments. It is secure.”

Bucky gave the other man a sidelong glance. Steve or Tony would probably have been horrified at the cool rationale of that answer, but the spy nodded calmly and swallowed his mouthful.

“Yeah, I think Barnes did a good job pickin’ it. Your place is nice.”

“We chose the furniture together.” Nat said shyly.

“Then you’ve both got great taste.”

“Where do you live, Agent Barton?”

“You can just call me Clint,” he winked, “And I mostly live at headquarters. But I’ve got a little farm out in the Midwest where I like to spend my downtime.”

“You do not look like a farmer.” She giggled.

“Can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Did you grow up on a farm?”

“Until I was about your age.”

“What happened?”

“My parents died in a car accident.”

Nat stuck her bottom lip out. “I am sorry.”

“Hey, wasn’t your fault. My brother and I lived in an orphanage for a while, and then we ended up joining the circus.”

“The circus?” her face lit up.

“Have you ever been?”

The girl shook her head.

“Maybe we’ll have to go sometime.”

Nat eyed him thoughtfully, lips pursed. “I think I would like that.”

 

When they finished eating, Clint pulled out another plastic bag and offered it to Natasha. “I got ya somethin’.”

She reached in curiously and took out two identical boxes with Nintendo logos on the side.

“What are they?”

“It’s called a DS, and there’s one for you and one for the Buckster. You can play games against each other.”

“What kind of games?”

“Racing games, adventure games, fighting games – lots of stuff.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Why don’t you unpack them and I can show you how to slaughter him in Mario Kart?”

Clint grabbed the burger wrappers and rubbish and shoved them in the paper bag as Natasha started fiddling with the box. The archer got up to throw it in the kitchen trash and Bucky followed, leaning against the fridge.

“Thanks. I didn’t even think about toys.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face.

The other man shrugged. “No big. I figured it might have slipped through the cracks.”

“I want her to have a shot at being normal,” Bucky said, “You know, friends and school and nobody trying to kill her. But I’m not sure how to make that happen.”

“Barnes, don’t beat yourself up. Nat’s not exactly a ‘playing with dolls’ kinda girl – she wouldn’t know what to do with a Barbie if you gave her one, except maybe use it to stab a guy. And you grew up in the Thirties, so fucked if I know what passed for playtime back then. I only thought about it cos I’ve got kids of my own. It’s been six weeks, man – give yourself a break. You’ll get better as you go.”

“You’ve got kids?”

“Yeah,” Clint made a face, “And that’s not common knowledge, alright? Not even the team know.”

“I won’t say anything.”

He smiled, clapping the sniper on the back. “I believe you. Isn’t that a wild development?”

“Do you think…” Bucky looked away, “Could I call you, if I’m not sure about something with Nat? Not all the time, just big things.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky dragged his hair up, trying to get the elastic around it for the fourth time and only succeeding in dropping half the ponytail. He growled and knocked his hairbrush off the sink, scowling at himself in the mirror.

“Do you need some help?”

He looked down at Natasha, who hovered in the doorway with the brush in her hand. _Her_ hair sat in a perfect braid that was wrapped around itself and pinned into a neat bun.

“Actually, I think I’m sick of it being so long. It’s always in my face, and it’s a pain to wash and brush and tie up. Want to watch me get it all lopped off?”

“But it’s so pretty.” She stuck her lip out.

Bucky laughed. “Maybe, but it’s not really me.”

“Okay.”

They got ready and headed down to the garage, and after Bucky had checked the car for explosives he drove them to the mall. They walked along hand in hand, Bucky’s eyes sweeping the upper levels for trouble while Natasha searched for a hairdresser.

“There.” She pointed to a tiny barbershop between a jeweller and a Starbucks, and tugged Bucky inside.

There were only three chairs but none of them were occupied. A man somewhere between 50 and 55 with a thick brown moustache and a bowling shirt under his apron looked up from reading the paper and smiled.

“Hi, what can I do for ya?”

“I’d like a cut. Please.” Bucky added belatedly.

“How short?”

“Much shorter. Two inches, max.”

“Have a seat.”

He took the chair furthest from the door, where they wouldn’t be visible from the second level. Natasha climbed into the empty spot next to him, swinging her legs a little as she watched. The barber spread the cape around him and Bucky clenched his jaw, fighting to keep still. The arm rests felt uncomfortably familiar.

The guy sprayed his hair to wet it and started combing it out, examining the sniper in the mirror.

“You need a shave too?”

“No, I can handle that.”

“Alright.”

 

He got to work with his scissors, hair quickly covering the floor. Bucky concentrated on staying as still as possible, though his eyes tracked every move of the barber’s hands. In his experience you could never be sure about anyone.

The barber glanced at Nat. “What’s your name, sweetpea?”

Bucky held his breath. It was a question she understood, but the conversation was quickly going to fall apart if they moved into more complex territory.

“Jessica.” The girl replied.

“Whoa, that’s some accent. Are you guys Russian?”

“Her mother was.” Bucky said.

“Ah. Here to keep an eye on your dad for me?”

Natasha looked at Bucky blankly and he bit his lip while he considered his answer. “She’s a good girl like that. Shy though.”

He raised a brow discreetly and Nat got the hint, nodding profusely.

“It’s the shy ones you gotta watch out for.” The barber winked.

“Definitely.” Bucky gave a tight smile.

He kept cutting, hands quick and deft, and one snip at a time Bucky watched a familiar face emerging. He used to know that person, a long, long time ago. That guy always tried to look his best, and he got dames, and he never killed anyone.

“Okay, just gonna neaten it up at the back.” The barber put down his scissors.

At the first whine of the clippers, Bucky went rigid. The sound got closer to his ear and he gripped the arm rests hard enough that the metal squealed. Natasha frowned, leaning over to rest a hand on his knee, but he didn’t notice. His jaw clenched shut with enough force to make the bones ache. The barber brought the metal tips close enough to brush his skin and he flinched away.

“You okay, pal?”

Bucky couldn’t speak; he shook his head, sucking in a breath through his nose.

The barber eyed him in the mirror with a sympathetic smile. “You’re a vet, huh? I get a few of those. Don’t worry, pal. I’ll be quick. Got to be brave for your little girl, huh?”

He knew that. He knew if he just held it together for a couple of minutes, it would be over and they could go home. But the hum and the vibrations and the shape of the chair and the pressure of the barber’s fingers on the nape of his neck, where he was so vulnerable…he couldn’t shake that sensation of being back in the safehouse, strapped to his seat while they went to work with their drills and welders.

Natasha slid to her feet. “Wait.”

She climbed into Bucky’s lap, placing her hands over his and meeting his gaze in the mirror. She smiled. Her weight was a distraction, and the contrast in feeling where her fingers drew circles of the back of his hands was another, and Bucky took a deep breath to force his heart rate down.

“Sorry.”

The barber shrugged. “No big deal. You ready?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Natasha started counting under her breath, in English, tongue stumbling sometimes on the words. Bucky listened and corrected her quietly, the clippers a soft drone somewhere at the edge of his awareness, and by the time they’d gotten to 143 it was done.

“There you go,” the barber brushed the stray hairs off the back of his neck and shoulders, “Lookin’ sharp.”

Bucky managed a somewhat sincere smile. “Thank you.”

He handed over some cash and the guy tried to give him change, but the ex-assassin waved him off.

“Keep it. You were, uh, you were very helpful.”

“Just doin’ my job, son.”

Bucky took Natasha’s hand and led her out of the shop, glancing around at the closest stores. He already felt a lot lighter.

“You want an ice cream?”

The redhead nodded, and he smiled again.

“Let’s find you one then.”

*****

Bucky pulled up to the security gate. There was nobody in the booth, and he clutched the wheel with a frown.

“What kind of operation is Stark running?”

A second later he jumped as a blue ray shot through the window, spreading into a wide line and moving upwards as it scanned his face.

“Identity confirmed. Welcome, Mr Barnes.”

The gate opened and he drove through, pulling into a garage full of luxury cars. Steve’s motorbike was there, parked by the elevators. Bucky stopped in a neighbouring bay and cut the engine.

“Ready?”

Natasha nodded, but he seized her chin gently and tilted her head until she looked at him.

“Remember what we discussed? You need to talk to people. You need to practice your English. And no punching Tony, no matter how annoying he is.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Yes, I remember.”

“Okay. Let’s move.”

They took the elevator up to the penthouse, the doors opening on a large open entertainment area. There was a sunken lounge space with couches on three sides, a small wet bar, and a table big enough for sixteen that was already set for dinner. Music was playing quiet enough to allow conversation, and the array of downlights made it feel like an art gallery, the soft glow reflecting off polished chrome and matte black furnishings. Bucky felt immediately out of place.

Tony and Pepper stood by the window, talking to a vaguely familiar dark man – Steve’s friend, Sam, the one he’d yanked out of the sky. The captain himself was sitting in a chair, leaning forward on his knees as he listened to Bruce.

Natasha didn’t let her discomfort show in her posture, but she did move the tiniest fraction closer to Bucky. He winked at her.

“We can do this, kiddo.”

They stepped into the room and Steve looked up, smiling broadly. “Hey Buck, hey Natasha.”

“Evenin’.”

“Hi!” Tony slapped a hand on Sam’s bicep and hurried over, “I wasn’t sure you’d show, Tin Man.”

“You know that’s a stupid nickname, right _Iron Man_? My arm’s not even made of tin.”

“My suit’s not made of iron but no one seems to care. Good to see you.” He offered his hand.

Bucky shook, careful to keep it politely firm, and gave Natasha a little shove between the shoulder blades. “Say hello, Natalka.”

“Good evening, Mr Stark.”

“Hello Miss Romanov. You’re looking adorable, in a lethal sort of way.”

She flashed him a smile that was all teeth, and Tony laughed.

 

“Come on, before the others accuse me of hogging your attention.”

“They’re not used to it by now?” Bucky smirked.

“Ooo I like this, the sarge comin’ out of his shell. You’re fun when you’re not scary.”

They joined the rest of the group and Pepper leaned in to kiss his cheek, the ex-soldier stiffening up. She didn’t seem bothered by it, smiling warmly.

“Welcome to the Tower, both of you. I like the haircut – suits you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“ _Pepper_.”

“Miss Pepper.”

She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“Hi Bucky.” Bruce said shyly.

“Hi Bruce.”

A hand was thrust towards him. “Sam Wilson. I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”

Bucky shook, quickly dropping it to run his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah. Uh, I should apologise for that. Before, in D.C. I-”

“Hey man, don’t sweat it,” Sam shrugged, “Shit happens.”

“Language.” Steve frowned, glanced at the kids.

“Yeah Wilson, think of the children!” Tony made a horrified face, ruining it with a snicker.

“Are we ready to eat?” Pepper asked.

There was a general chorus in the affirmative, and they took their seats at the table. Bucky sat where he could see both the elevator and the window, and Natasha placed herself next to him. Bruce sat on her other side, with Pepper at the head of the table. Tony sat opposite Bruce, Steve and Sam fighting it out over who had to sit closest to him. Someone had made a huge roast, with what seemed like a mile of side dishes. Pepper caught Bucky eyeing the meat suspiciously and raised her voice.

“I’m sorry in advance – I’m not much of a cook.”

“Nah Pep, you’re amazing.” Tony blew her a kiss as he started loading his plate with baked potatoes.

Bucky relaxed a little, confident no one could have dosed the food without Pepper or the AI security noticing, and certain she wouldn’t want to drug or poison them. He turned to Natasha.

“What would you like?”

“You first.” She whispered.

 

He served himself a couple of big spoonfuls of peas and corn and carrots, heaping beans over the top before he took a slice of beef. Natasha watched him pour gravy over the whole pile and considered the various dishes thoughtfully. She pointed to the potatoes.

“English, Natalka.” He reminded her gently.

She scowled at him. “May I please have some potato?”

“Of course. What else?”

They worked their way around the table, and the only thing that threw her off was the pumpkin. When Bucky looked up, he realised the other adults were staring.

“What?”

“I can’t tell you how damn strange it is to watch the Winter Soldier teach Black Widow the names of vegetables, _and_ make her eat them.” Tony snorted.

“Vegetables are good for you,” Bucky frowned, “She knows that.”

Sam laughed. “I think you’re missin’ the point, man.”

“I think it’s great,” Steve said playfully, “Someone’s gotta keep Buck out of trouble.”

“Haha, Rogers. Maybe I used up all my quick thinking making sure you didn’t get your ass beat every other day.”

“I hear you, bro. Dude can’t go five minutes without jumping off a building or blowing somethin’ up.” Sam elbowed Steve.

“You jump off buildings all the time!”

“I’m wearing wings when I do it, Mr GI Joe.”

The blond shrugged. “I don’t need wings. When I hit the pavement, it’s not me who gets hurt.”

“Try to sound a little less smug, Cap.” Tony snickered.

“Honestly – boys,” Pepper rolled her eyes, turning to Nat, “How are your English lessons going?”

“Well. I practice every day. We watch the television and the Internet and I have some English books.”

“We’re doing the maths and science stuff in English too,” Bucky added, “I just translate the hard parts.”

“You’ll be fluent in no time.” Pepper beamed.

 

“Have you started thinking about schools?” Tony took a bite, “We can get her in pretty much anywhere.”

“Bruce is going to Trinity in the fall.” The CEO said.

“I made a push for home schooling, since we’re never gonna find a teacher smarter than me,” Stark sneered, “But Pep pointed out growing up with robots for playmates might make him a bit uncomfortable in social situations.”

“I like the robots.” Bruce said quietly.

“And they love you, buddy.”

Bucky took a breath. “Hadn’t thought about it. September is probably too soon for her to start anyway, so we’ve got a year to decide.”

Steve seemed to catch his hesitant undertone, frowning. “I’m sure Natasha’s looking forward to having other kids around.”

Bucky bit his tongue and replied in French. “The last time she had other kids around, they were being taught to kill each other.”

The captain grimaced, and Tony choked on his mouthful. Pepper buried her expression in her glass but Bucky could tell it was grim from the way her brow twitched.

A small hand pinched his leg, not hard enough to really hurt, and he glared at Nat. “What was that for?”

“English, James.”

Sam laughed. “She certainly don’t suffer fools.”

“We get along,” Bucky’s lip curled in a half-smile, “I apologise, Natalia.”

The redhead gave him an offended sniff and kept eating. Bruce was staring at her in disbelief, like the thought of reprimanding an adult was so crazy he couldn’t even process it.

“How are things on the Avenging side of town?” Bucky popped a carrot into his mouth.

“Quiet,” Steve answered, “We’re on a bit of a hiatus while we try to rustle up some new members. So far I’ve recruited Sam and Rhodey, but we still need one more.”

“What happened to Barton?”

“Oh no, he’s still in,” Tony sipped his drink, “I’m out.”

Bucky arched a brow. “Really?”

The inventor shrugged. “I’ve got more important things to worry about at the moment.”

His eyes darted to Bruce for a second and Bucky forced down a knowing smile. The genius had a soft spot under all that bravado and sarcasm.

“I know what you mean.”

 

After dinner they moved to the couches, the kids sitting at the coffee table with a couple of ridiculously overloaded sundaes. Tony got up to fill his glass and Bucky excused himself, shadowing the shorter man to the bar.

“Oh, hey Barnes. You want a scotch?”

“I’ll pass,” he leaned both arms on the surface, “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

“Shoot. Not literally.” He added quickly.

Bucky ducked his head bashfully, avoiding Tony’s gaze. “Do you think maybe you could take a look at my arm?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to get my hands on that thing since I saw it! Are you having problems with it?”

“Not really. I was mostly wondering if you could find a way to hide it, so I don’t have to cover up all the time. It draws attention.”

Tony stuck his lip out. “Oh. Sure, I can probably run something up. Maybe sneak in a couple of upgrades – when was the last time they rejigged that thing?”

“About ten years.”

“Come by the Tower this weekend and I’ll run some scans, sketch out a design.”

“Okay. Thanks, Stark.”

“Thank _you_ – I know a little something about bionic engineering and I’m interested to see what HYDRA’s best can come up with.”

Bucky cringed and Tony gave a wry smile.

“Not all their experiments turned out so great, huh?”

“I’m gettin’ by.”

“From where I’m sitting, you’re doing fantastic. You’ve dropped the shabby hobo chic, you and Nat are thick as thieves, and Jarvis tells me you only brought two firearms to dinner rather than the small armoury I was expecting.”

Bucky blushed. “Well I didn’t want it to seem like I might go postal on you.”

“I’m touched by the gesture. You and Nat should come for dinner more often. We can make it like a regular thing.”

“I think that might be okay.”

“Okay?” Tony scoffed.

“Nice.”

“That’s better. We can share parenting tips.”

“I’m not sure I know much about it. I just try to keep her clean and fed and not on fire.”

Tony laughed. “Join the club.”

 

It was comforting to know that Tony Stark, genius millionaire superhero, was as clueless as Bucky when it came to kids. But the thing was, Bucky _wasn’t_ clueless. He’d looked after his sisters, and he’d looked after Steve when the boy was sick and Sarah had to work. He understood Natasha’s experience at the Red Room better than anyone else, and his general need to always be prepared for the worst meant he was never caught off guard, even if ‘the worst’ these days was less gun-jamming-mid-assault and more water-boiling-over-because-he-forgot-to-check-it.

Between his memories, his instincts, the collective wisdom of movies and TV, and watching other people with their children, he managed to get through the next couple of months without any serious dramas. Every day they successfully got by without a crisis made him feel like he wasn’t crazy, that he was perfectly capable, and that the good luck couldn’t last.

*****

The phone rang. Bucky swore at the eggy mess all over his fingers and grabbed a tea towel, giving his hands a perfunctory wipe before he lunged for the device.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Clint.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, I’m just spectacularly fucking up an omelette.”

“Cool,” the archer snorted, “I was calling to remind you that Nat’s birthday is on Saturday.”

“Oh…shit. Um, I guess I should organise a party?”

“Why don’t you ask what she wants to do?”

“Because her response is gonna be ‘parties are a distraction from training, comrade James’. And she hates being the centre of attention in groups. But this is important, right? Birthdays are like, a personal thing. Individual.”

“Yeah. It’s a whole day just for you.”

“So we should have a party. I can do that.” Bucky said, already mentally running through a checklist of what needed to be done.

“Alright. Text me the details, and let me know if you need a hand.”

“I will. Thanks Clint.”

Bucky hung up, wiping the egg off his phone. He eyed the wretched, limp attempt at an omelette and set his jaw. He was gonna get this right if it killed him. He dumped the scrambled slop in the bin and started again, thinking about Natasha’s birthday. What did you buy the little agent who had everything?

It would be great to have the party somewhere green, like a picnic in the park where Nat and Bruce could play, but it was way too cold for that. They could go to a restaurant, except he didn’t trust food that wasn’t made in front of him. He didn’t want to ask Tony to host them at Stark Tower, because this was _Nat’s_ birthday and he wanted to handle it. It was his job, as her caretaker.

They’d have it at the apartment. It might be a bit of a security risk asking Tony Stark to their tiny suburban hideaway, but it was familiar and comfortable for both Bucky and Nat, and he could control things like the temperature and the decorations. Bucky took a fresh egg out of the carton and cracked it into a bowl, already working on a plan.

 

Natasha walked into the main room in her PJs and stopped, frowning deeply. Bucky looked over from where he was pinning a sparkly banner above the window.

“Happy birthday, Natalka.”

She scanned the living room, taking in the mass of balloons and streamers and the cling-wrapped plates of food on the counter.

“Are we having…a party?”

“A small one,” Bucky came over, “Just Steve and some of the others. Is that okay?”

She pouted, plucking absentmindedly at one trouser leg. “I’ve never had a party before.”

Bucky crouched down. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Do you want to go get ready?”

“What about training?”

“I think you can take the day off for your birthday.”

Her mouth twitched and the sniper sighed.

“Alright, but just a quick session.”

They cleared a space amongst the decorations and went through their exercises, Bucky running a careful eye over Nat’s stance and form, correcting her gently when she wavered. They were doing some light boxing, Bucky blocking Nat’s blows on the flat of his forearms, when the girl bit her lip.

“What do people wear to parties?”

“You’re the birthday girl,” he shrugged, “You can wear whatever you like.”

“I don’t know what I like.” She huffed.

“You’re not the only one, kid. What about a nice dress? I could help you do something special with your hair.”

She gave him a wry look. “I think that would be a disaster.”

He laughed. “Ouch, Natalka. I’m not totally hopeless, you know.”

She slipped a tiny fist past his defences and caught him by the collarbone, smiling smugly. “I am just better at some things.”

“I’ll show you better!”

He roared and grabbed her, tickling her mercilessly as she fought off the hold, giggling too hard to get any leverage. Finally she wriggled free, rolling away to catch her breath. Bucky snickered and she gave him a glare like an offended cat, but it didn’t stick.

“How about you help me pick something presentable, and then we’ll sort out something for you?”

Natasha’s face brightened and she snapped to her feet, grabbing his hand. “Come on, James! We must find you the perfect disguise!”

“Disguise?”

“So you blend in with the other grown-ups.”

Bucky thought about their guest list and snorted. “I doubt it.”

 

The closer they got to party time, the more Bucky freaked out about security. He and Natasha sat on the couch playing Super Smash Bros, but he kept glancing at the silent intercom. He didn’t expect anyone to try to get in uninvited, but the extra activity might draw attention, especially if Stark or Steve were being watched. Still, he was slightly mollified by the fact that anyone stupid enough to attack a room full of Avengers would soon learn their lesson.

Just before twelve there was a buzz, and he jumped up to answer it. Tony beamed back.

“Hi!”

“Come on up.”

Natasha looked suddenly solemn, and he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Can you please put the radio on, Natalka?”

She went to do as she was told, and by the time the soft strains of Bon Jovi were floating through the apartment, there was a knock on the door. Bucky didn’t go for his gun, but he did keep his metal elbow raised for a potential blow as he yanked it open.

“Easy there, Barnes. You could take somebody’s eye out.” Tony breezed through, a huge stack of brightly wrapped packages in his arms.

Pepper followed, holding Bruce’s hand. She leaned in to kiss Bucky’s cheek and the ex-assassin blushed. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks, Miss Pepper.”

Clint, Thor, Steve and Sam were behind them, and Bucky quirked a brow in a question.

“We rented a people mover,” the captain smiled, “Made more sense if we all arrived together.”

Bucky relaxed with an internal sigh of relief. Nobody would take any notice of a family car like that in the suburbs. His worries disappeared, and he found himself looking forward to the afternoon.

“Please, make yourselves at home.”

Clint headed straight for Natasha, spreading his arms. “Hey Red! Happy birthday.”

She gave him a hug that fell somewhere between polite and enthusiastic, and he didn’t drag it out. Pepper stooped to kiss her cheek, but Steve, Sam and Tony kept their distance, greeting the Russian with a wave rather than intrude on her personal space.

Thor didn’t care. He kissed her hand, then threw her up onto his shoulder like a lady sitting side-saddle. Bucky winced but Nat didn’t seem to mind once she’d reoriented herself, her hands clenching in the god’s hair.

“Happy name day, friend Natasha! Have you made a wish to the Norns?”

“Who are they?” Nat said.

Thor launched into an explanation of Asgardian belief systems and Bucky realised he should be doing things.

“Does anyone want a drink?”

Steve held up a cooler. “Tony thought you might have under-catered, so he brought a small liquor store.”

“Great. I’ll get glasses.”

 

He wandered into the kitchen, Sam close behind.

“Let me give you a hand, man.”

“Thanks.”

“So what’s all this?” he peered at the covered dishes, brows raising as Bucky opened the fridge to reveal even more food.

“Bit of this, bit of that. Lots of fish. Potato salad, beet salad, _pirozhki_ \- things Nat’s used to, with a dash of good old American standards.” He waved a plate of mini frankfurts.

“Did you make it all yourself?” Sam sounded incredulous.

Bucky frowned. “It’s not safe otherwise.”

“Seriously? I didn’t know you could cook.”

“It’s just procedure,” he shrugged, “You follow the steps, with the right ingredients in the right order. I can do that.”

Sam smiled. “I’m sure it’s more complicated than that. You’re allowed to accept a compliment, you know.”

Bucky shoved a stack of plastic cups at him instead of answering, taking the plastic wrap off a plate of snacks and carrying it to the table. Steve was standing nearby, staring at the decorations with a stupid smile on his face.

“What’s wrong with you, Stevie?”

“I forgot how festive you get.”

Bucky elbowed him. “Somebody had to – if you’d had it your way, we’d have skipped Christmas and New Year’s altogether.”

“Speaking of holidays,” Tony sidled up to his elbow, “Are you and Tasha coming to Stark Manor for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Oh. Uh, are we supposed to?”

“I won’t take no for an answer, Barnes.”

“Then why’d you even bother to ask?” Steve shook his head.

Tony looked aghast. “It’s good manners, Cap.”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance, the brunette rolling his eyes. He looked for Natasha and found her sitting on the floor next to Bruce, showing him how to use the DS. Sam opened a couple of beers and offered him one, and Bucky took it gratefully.

 

They ate, the mountain of food disappearing thanks to the combined efforts of Bucky, Steve and Thor. Then Bucky sent everyone to sit on the couch and watch Nat open presents while he got dessert ready, keeping one eye on the proceedings as he put the candles in the top of the pie and tried to find a lighter.

Natasha pulled back metallic red paper and held up a thick, leather-bound book, the titles written in gold Cyrillic.

“I got it in Minsk,” Clint said, “From this dingy market stall. Made me think of you.”

“What is it?” Pepper leaned in to try to read the cover.

“Folk tales,” Natasha said, “From my country.”

“Cool – like the Brothers Grimm?” Bruce asked.

“I don’t know.” Nat frowned.

“Oh. Tony’s been reading it to me – maybe you could borrow it?” he glanced at the billionaire.

“Sure. And maybe I could read a couple stories next time Tasha comes for dinner.”

“Open mine next, fair maiden!” Thor held out a small wooden box with jewels inlaid in the lid to form a portrait of the girl.

She took it, sliding the lid off to reveal a set of metal discs cut into a stylised X shaped, with wickedly sharp edges and points. Nat lifted one out cautiously, turning it in the light to examine the runic markings engraved across the surface.

“Throwing stars?” Steve gaped at him, “You got a six-year-old throwing stars for her birthday?”

“They are the very best in all of Asgard.” He smiled proudly.

Natasha beamed at the god. “Thank you, comrade Thor.”

Bucky stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Natalka, how about you put those away in your room so they don’t get mixed up with your other presents? Maybe Bruce can help you find a safe spot.”

The two children got up and went into Nat’s room, and Tony rounded on Thor.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, “Maybe you missed the memo but we’re not encouraging her to kill people anymore.”

The blond frowned. “I do not understand. Natasha is still a shield-maiden, no matter her size.”

Steve sighed. “We don’t want her to become a fighter, Thor. This is her second chance to have a normal life – a less dangerous one.”

“Then you intend to mould her into what you desire, as her old advisors did once before.”

Bucky threw Thor an admiring grin as the others looked gobsmacked, though Sam had a thoughtful expression as he scratched his chin.

“It’s not like that-” Clint started, but Bucky held up a hand and shushed him.

“If she’s not already listening, she will be in about five seconds, so we don’t have time to debate this. Tony and Steve are right – we don’t wanna pressure Nat into becoming just a fighter again. But Thor’s also right – if she wants to go down that path, it’s her choice, which is still an improvement on the Red Room.”

Steve frowned, looking ready to argue, but Bucky shook his head slightly and a second later the bedroom door opened as Nat and Bruce returned.

“Thank you, Thor,” the brunette said, glancing at Nat, “It’s a beautiful present and I’ll make sure she learns to use them properly.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms folded. “Natalka, which one are you going to open next?”

The redhead reached for the next item in the pile, and if the tension didn’t dispel completely, it was close enough.

 

Tony and Pepper’s presents were a bunch of new clothes and board games and toys, most of which Bucky knew Nat wouldn’t touch unless she got bored or curious, which was fine. At least she had the option to explore what she did and didn’t like, and the games would keep them entertained.

Steve and Sam had collaborated on a huge crate art supplies, everything from sketch books and pencils to oil paints and charcoals, to clay and embroidery silks and a child-sized plastic loom.

Steve waved a hand at a box of pastels. “If you like, I can show you how to use everything properly when I visit.”

“Go nuts, Tash – I need some quality artwork for my fridge.” Sam winked.

“Ooh, us too,” Pepper chirped, “You and Bruce could have a corner in Tony’s collection.”

Natasha looked vaguely suspicious of the woman’s enthusiasm but she got up and kissed Steve and Sam’s cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The captain blushed.

“Last one, Tash.” Clint slid a bundle across the table at her.

It was wrapped plainly in silver with a matching ribbon and bow. Bucky drew closer, arms still crossed over his chest as he held his breath. Nat ripped the paper back to reveal a stack of comics. She traced her finger over the first cover, a woman punching a slimy green alien, and glanced at Bucky.

“I asked the guy for a copy of every female superhero title they had.”

Sam laughed. “That’s awesome.”

Natasha opened the top one, flicking through the colourful pages with a grave expression.

“The Avengers could use a couple of ladies like that – it’s a total sausage fest without you.” Clint chuckled.

Natasha looked up at Bucky. “These women are not real?”

“No, they’re just made-up superheroes. Not like the Avengers.”

“They’re better – their villains never get away.” Tony added.

She leaned over and kissed Bucky’s cheek, hugging the comic to her chest as she threw her free arm around his neck.

“Thank you, Jamie.”

Bucky didn’t need a mirror to know his face had gone bright pink. He hugged her back, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

“Are you ready for pie?”

She nodded, sitting down next to Bruce with the comic still in her lap, and Bucky bolted for the kitchen. Tony sauntered in while he was still lighting candles, hand shaking.

“ _Some_ body _likes_ you!” the genius sang under his breath.

Bucky scowled, shoving the lighter at him. “Shut up and help, Stark.”

*****

He put the handbrake on and took the keys out of the ignition. “We ready?”

Natasha brandished the shopping list and a pen. “Yes.”

“What’s the plan of attack?”

“You get a cart, I watch the door. Then we start at the left and work our way to the checkouts.”

“Let’s move.”

Bucky got out first, sweeping a watchful eye over their surroundings, and walked around the car to open the door for her. Keeping his body between any potential snipers’ nests and Natasha, they crossed the carpark and entered the supermarket. Bucky grabbed a cart, Nat glaring at the doors, and then together they headed into the fresh produce section.

They worked in swift and mostly silent unison. Natasha would find the next thing on the list and lead him there, while Bucky managed the cart loading and steering processes. Any dispute over cereal choices or juice brands was settled with a quick round of paper, scissors, rock. When they reached the cashiers, Bucky filled up the conveyor belt and pushed Natasha forward.

“Hi, how are ya today?” the woman gave Nat a two-second smile.

“Good, thank you. And you?”

“Just great.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky and he raised his brows, jerking his head at the cashier.

“It’s very nice weather.” The redhead said, though her reluctant expression didn’t really go with the pleasantry.

“Yeah, they reckon it’s gonna be a hot weekend.”

“I hope it is not too warm.”

“You and me both, sweetie.”

She finished ringing up their groceries and Bucky let Nat pay, watching her count out the cash with painstaking care. Then he carried the bags out to the car and shoved them in the back seat, feeling exposed until they were both buckled up with the doors closed.

“You did much better today.”

Nat folded her arms crossly. “I do not understand why I have to practice speaking to people and you don’t. You are just as new at it as me.”

“You’re right, but I’m not learning a second language. Your accent was almost perfect, Natalka. I’m very proud.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Her bad mood vanished, and as they headed home Bucky could hear her singing along to the radio quietly, the former soldier smothering a grin behind his hand.

 

They carried the groceries up and started putting them away, Nat sitting on the edge of the counter and passing things to Bucky where he stood by the open fridge.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

He glared over his shoulder at the girl as she smirked. “You’ve been spending too much time with Steve.”

“He tells the best stories about you, James.”

“Yeah, well two can play at that game.”

Natasha waved a milk carton until he took it and put it on the shelf. “What were you thinking?”

“We’re getting pretty close to the six month mark.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“Time to start looking for a proper English teacher.”

“I don’t want a new teacher. You are teaching me.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on punctuation or grammar or pronunciation, Natalka. I went to school in the _Thirties_. I’ve mostly been doing my best running through the same vocab over and over. If you’re going to school next year, you need to be at the same level as your classmates, and English is their native language.”

“I don’t want another teacher.”

He raised a brow at the fierceness of her tone. “I’ll still be going through your other lessons with you, if you’re worried about that.”

“No,” she fisted her hands on her thighs, “I do not trust the strange Americans. It is not safe.”

“I’m not buying that as an excuse, Tasha. You know I’d never hire anyone I wasn’t 100% sure about. Tell me why you don’t want a tutor.”

She threw her hands up with a yell. “Why are you trying to change things? What is wrong with the way things are?”

“Because I want to help you but I’m reachin’ the limits of my ability. It’s no big deal to let someone else pick up the slack.”

Natasha abruptly rolled backwards off the counter and landed on her feet, running to her room. Bucky frowned, closing the fridge as he hurried after her, but she slammed the door in his face.

“Natalia? Natalia.”

“Go away!”

 

He withdrew from the door as if burned, brows furrowed. She’d never raised her voice at him before. Had he done something wrong? Had he upset her? How? Why? Should he try to make her open up and talk to him? He thought about knocking and decided he wouldn’t be able to handle the bruising to his ego if she told him to go again.

Bucky stumbled back to the living room. Had he made her cry? That’s what kids did when they were upset, they hid in their rooms and cried – his sisters had done it all the time. Bucky couldn’t stand the thought of Natasha alone like that, especially if it was his fault.

Standing around overthinking it wasn’t going to fix the problem. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what else to do. It was time to call for backup. Bucky took his phone out into the hall and closed the apartment door, hitting speed dial.

“Y’ello?”

“Clint?”

“Buck? What’s up? You sound jumpy.”

“Nat and I had a fight. Or at least, she had a fight and I stood there getting yelled at. And now she’s in her room with the door closed and I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know if she’s mad or sad.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, alright big guy. Slow it down. What was the fight about?”

Bucky relayed it quickly, keeping his voice low. He waited for Clint to respond, finally clearing his throat.

“Well?”

“Well you should probably stop beating yourself up about it. It doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“Then what’s with all the door slamming and shouting?”

“I dunno.”

The brunette threw his hand up in frustration. “You’re supposed to know her better than anyone.”

“Grown up Nat, sure. This one’s a whole different animal. But you’re right, she can’t be worried about the security risk because she’s been fine with the way you handle it so far.”

“What should I do?”

“Give her fifteen minutes to cool off, and then go ask if she’ll tell you what’s bothering her.”

“Are you kidding? She doesn’t want to talk to me. God, I knew I was gonna screw this up eventually.”

Clint laughed. “Barnes, calm down. This is a good thing.”

“ _How_ is this good?”

“If Nat’s willing to actively stand up to you like that, it means she feels comfortable. She doesn’t think you’re gonna punish her for speaking out of turn, or questioning orders.”

Bucky felt like all the wind had been sucked out of his sails. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I think it’s great non-violent conflict resolution practice for both of you.”

“Okay. So…I just ask her what’s wrong?”

“She probably trusts you enough to tell you, if you seem sympathetic. I almost guarantee she’s freaking out right now that she’s crossed the line and you’re gonna court-martial her.”

Bucky blanched. He didn’t want her sitting alone with that worry any longer than she had to. “Right. I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“You can do it! I believe in youuuuuuu.”

“Thanks, Barton.” He rolled his eyes, hanging up.

 

Bucky let himself in quietly and waited by the door for a second, listening. There was motion in Nat’s room, so she hadn’t made a break for it. He put his phone on the table and told himself to man up, closing his eyes as he took a breath to clear his head. Then he knocked.

“Natalia? May I come in?”

There was a very quiet sniffle and then footsteps, and the door opened. Nat’s eyes looked puffy and red, and she quickly hung her head, putting distance between them as she hugged herself.

“Let’s sit down.” Bucky settled on the edge of the tiny bed, patting the duvet next to him.

Nat looked up at him through her lashes warily but sat, back too straight.

“I’m sorry if you’re upset,” he started, “And I’m sorry I don’t understand why. I’d be a lot less confused, and a lot happier, if you would please tell me why you don’t want a tutor.”

She said nothing, eyes on her hands.

“Natalia, you’re not in trouble. Whatever the reason is, it won’t make me angry. Please talk to me, because I don’t know how to fix the problem if I don’t know what it is.”

Nat crossed her legs, gripping her ankles tight. “In the Red Room, there were different areas for the different girls. The little ones had their quarters, and the bigger ones were upstairs, and the oldest had a separate house across the courtyard.”

Bucky blinked at her, still completely lost. “Okayyyy. What does that have to do with teachers?”

“Your lessons changed when you moved to the new bedrooms. You got new instructors, new trainers.” She bit her lip.

And Bucky had a moment of clarity. “You think that having new teachers means you’ll have to go live somewhere else?”

“You want to get me a tutor,” she sniffed, “To send me to school. You don’t want me to stay with you.”

“Oh Natalka, no, that’s not true at all. I want you to live wherever and with whoever you want to live. I’d never send you away unless I had no other choice.”

“I don’t want to live with new people. I like you.”

“Then you’re gonna stay right here, okay? Having a tutor isn’t going to change that. You don’t have to leave, no matter how old you get.”

She started crying in earnest, and he scooped her into his lap. Bucky stroked her hair carefully, swaying without realising.

“It’s not like the Red Room, okay? This is your home, and whether you have your lessons here or at school or any random place, this will still be your home. It’s separate, okay? Living here and studying are two separate things. You’re not living with me because I teach you, I’m teaching you because you live with me. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “You will not send me away once I am grown?”

“No. We’re a team, remember? Best team on the East Coast. We help each other. We’re friends.”

Natasha’s voice was very small. “I have never had a friend.”

Bucky sighed. “I know, Natalka. Can I give it a try?”

She nodded, rubbing her wet face on his shirt.

“And next time you aren’t sure about something, just ask. You’ll never get in trouble for asking a question or telling me you’re unhappy, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Now, you wanna help me finish putting away the shopping?”

 

Bucky decided Nat had to be involved in picking a tutor if they were going to get along. They needed somebody good; Fury would have the best linguistics team in the country but he was supposedly staying out of Nat’s life, and with HYDRA sleeper agents possibly still lurking in the shadows Bucky wasn’t taking any chances. He went to Pepper instead, figuring no one had more resources than her. Within a week, the waiting room at Stark Tower was filled with the best English teachers in the state.

Bucky and Natasha peered through a crack in the meeting room blinds.

“What do you think?” he murmured.

“They all look so stuffy.” She whispered.

“They’re teachers,” he shrugged, “I think they’re supposed to be stuffy.”

“Are we ready?” Pepper asked behind them.

Bucky waved a hand at the table. “After you.”

Nat climbed onto her chair and he sat beside her, Pepper pushing a stack of paperwork at him.

“I’ve gotta run but my assistant’s outside if you need anything.”

“We can handle these twerps, right Nat?”

“We shall destroy them.” She scowled, clenching her fist on the table.

“Have fun. I’ll send in the first one.”

She left, and a moment later a shy-looking man of about thirty with chestnut hair and an actual tweed jacket knocked on the open door.

“Hi?”

Bucky furrowed his brow gruffly. “Come in, Mr…?”

“Tobias Blake.”

“Please take a seat.”

The former sergeant made a big deal of diving through the pile of resumes until he found the right one, silent the whole time as Natasha stared at Mr Blake with her hands clasped on the table. The young man kept blinking, trying to avoid her gaze and yet being drawn back over and over, like her eyes were magnetic. He coughed, filling a glass from the water jug and taking a sip. Bucky started reading the resume, making a show of sticking his lip out critically.

“It says you have a masters from Princeton in English literature, and one from Columbia in linguistics.”

“Um, yes.”

“You seem awfully young.”

“I assure you, I completed the full course curriculum.”

“How’s your Slavic?”

“My…sorry, could you be more specific?” he asked, eyes still glancing at Natasha every few seconds.

“I don’t like him,” she said in Russian, “He’s too nervous.”

“He looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.” Bucky agreed.

Mr Blake looked more confused. “I’m sorry, nobody mentioned what the job actually entailed?”

“That’s fine,” Bucky smiled warmly, “I think we’ve heard enough, Tobias. Thank you for coming in. Someone will be in touch.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you for meeting me.”

He stood and Bucky shook his hand, the man’s brows shooting up at the strength of his grip. He scurried out and Bucky tossed the resume into a bin, where it would be visible to the next candidate.

“Think we can make one of ‘em cry?” he asked offhand.

Natasha chuckled evilly. “Piece of cake.”

 

The next interviewee was too flaky, obviously getting distracted as he answered their questions and running off on tangents. The one after that had lied about his fluency with Russian, staring blankly as the pair critiqued his outfit, appearance and general character, and then trying to tell them the conversation had been about pets. The candidate after that couldn’t stop fidgeting, tugging at the bottom of his jacket every two seconds.

They’d gone through another four when they got to Jake Pichot, who was middle-aged and had hard wrinkles around his eyes. He didn’t seem bothered by Nat’s stare, and he corrected their Russian flawlessly, but he was just too nosy for Bucky’s liking.

“Where did you say the lessons would be?”

“We haven’t found a space yet.”

“Why not your house?” Jake pushed, “I can commute, for an extra fee. Whereabouts is it? It’s probably better if your daughter feels comfortable in the environment – I’m sorry, she is your daughter, yes?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. His instincts weren’t screaming ‘spy’, and he trusted Stark’s background checks, but he didn’t like the interrogation either. This was a man trying to ferret out as much information as he could about an admittedly mysteriously job offer – and maybe he was right to, but it didn’t make Bucky feel lie he could be discreet, or accept an order without question.

“Thank you, Mr Pichot. We’ll be in touch.” He smiled tightly.

The tutor looked taken aback, but he left with another frown as he opened the door.

“I didn’t like him,” Nat sniffed, “He was bossy.”

“Damn right. Next!”

A woman walked into, wearing a neat but unremarkable brown dress that reminded him of Pepper with its sleek lines. She was about mid-forties, greying blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Her features were very angular but it didn’t make her look intimidating or unpleasant, just sort of attentive, like a coyote.

He stood. “Nice to meet you, Miss Porter.”

Bucky offered his left hand. Tony’s upgrades made it look like flesh but it didn’t feel like it, and he’d freaked out several candidates so far with the weirdly cold, hard grip. Miss Porter shook it lightly, her expression never wavering. Bucky and Nat exchanged a glance.

“Please, sit. Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you, Mr Barnes.”

“You can call me James. This is Jessica; she’ll be your student.”

“I’m eager to get to know you better, Jessica.” Miss Porter offered her hand.

Natasha shook it solemnly, eying Bucky. Nobody else had bothered to treat her like an adult – they’d either ignored her entirely or gone too far in the other direction, talking down to her and being overly friendly. They hadn’t seemed to notice she was the one they needed to impress.

“Your qualifications are very impressive, Miss Porter. I see you spent several years in Europe. Can you tell me about that?”

 

She sat back in her chair, posture relaxed. “I worked for several ambassadors, teaching their children English.”

“Which ambassadors?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“I imagine a job like that requires someone dedicated to keeping their clientele’s secrets. Was it ever dangerous?”

She smiled. “It wasn’t the Middle East, Mr Barnes. The embassies I served were quiet ones.”

“But you must have received some training in how to handle an attack?”

“Some. I also have advanced first aid certificates.”

Natasha leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “You are not married. Why?”

“I was, once. It wasn’t for me.”

Bucky nodded. “Tell us a bit about your teaching style. How would you approach Jessica’s studies?”

“I’d have to know a bit more about her current education. Have you ever been to school, Jessica?”

“Not the kind you’re familiar with.” She said in her mother tongue, grinning wolfishly.

“I’ve been teaching her myself at home for six months, but she didn’t know any English before that.” Bucky said, also in Russian.

Miss Porter’s reply was cool and no-nonsense. “Then I’d like to go over the basics until I have an idea what we need to work on, and structure a plan that will bring her up to the level of any native speaker of her age and intellect.”

Nat tapped Bucky’s leg under the table and he gave the smallest possible nod.

“You understand the position would require the utmost confidentiality?”

“Of course.”

“And there are risks – minimal, but enough to be taken seriously. We have enemies, Miss Porter. You would need to take precautions to protect yourself.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’m assuming you will review my security and make some suggestions?”

“Yes. We’re happy to handle expenses.”

Miss Porter smiled. “Then I’m happy to oblige.”

Bucky closed his file. “When are you available to start?”

“Tomorrow, if you like.”

“We haven’t chosen a classroom space yet, but there will probably be about four that we use in a randomly rotating schedule.”

It didn’t seem to faze her. “So long as there are four walls and a roof, we’ll make do.”

*****

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh.” Steve beamed, taking another swig of his beer.

Bucky scowled. “Would you stop encouraging Tasha to mock me, by the way?”

“No.”

He sighed. “It’s about her, actually.”

Steve’s gaze flicked across Sam’s yard to where the ex-airman and Nat were playing on the swings, seeing who could go higher. “What’s up?”

Bucky shifted in his chair, making a face. “I don’t think we should send her to school.”

“Why not? It’ll be good for her to be around kids her age. Bruce is lovin’ it.”

“No, I get that. I know it’s important, but the problem is she’s too damn smart. If she goes to a normal public school, they’ll have to put her with the older kids, who will pick on her. You know how that’s gonna end.”

“Badly – for them.”

“And if she goes to a fancy private place, I’m worried…I’m worried all the rules and uniforms and stuff will be too much like the Red Room.”

Steve didn’t immediately dismiss him like he’d expected. He looked thoughtful instead, sipping his beer. “You really think it’s a problem?”

“In the long term, it’s something she’ll have to get over if she ever wants to go to college or have a job. But for now, I think it would be better to keep the school stuff and the socialising stuff separate. Easier for her to process.”

“Okay. How are you gonna do that?”

“She responds well to the tutor, so I figured we’ll stick with that. And I wanna sign her up for activities. Some sort of sport, maybe acting or ballet too.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Buck.”

He blinked. “Really?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. You’ve been looking after her for what, a year? You’re her guardian. We trust you to make those decisions.”

“Oh.” He said lamely.

“Look, I’m not an expert on child psychology or conditioning or kids in general, but Nat clearly likes living with you. She trusts you, she respects you, and she’s much better with other people than she used to be. I mean look at them,” He nodded at the pair playing, “When the transformation first happened, Nat was more likely to stab Sam than talk to him. You’ve been really good for her, and I think she’s been really good for you.”

“I’m just trying not to fuck up.”

“It’s working.”

Bucky peeled a corner of the damp wrapper off his beer bottle. “Thanks, Stevie. It means a lot.”

“Any time.”

 

Believing there was no such thing as too many options, Bucky got flyers for every junior sports club and children’s class within the city limits, pinning them up by the kitchen wall. They went to a couple of open days and trial sessions, Nat clinging to his hand warily as they watched the other kids running about or chattering loudly. Bucky kept a whiteboard with a list of activities by the counter, and they slowly crossed them off one by one.

“How’s Operation Extra-curricular going?” Clint asked next time he called.

“Horse riding’s out.”

“Really? I thought that one was a sure thing.”

“ _I_ was certain she’d go for gymnastics but no, apparently not. Said it was too easy.”

The archer snorted. “Of course she did. What about acting?”

“I vetoed that one. She had a bit of a bad reaction…” Bucky shook his head, forgetting Clint couldn’t see him through the phone.

“What kind of reaction?”

“Didn’t want to break character. For two days.”

“Ah. Yeah, I can see how that would be annoying.”

“And frightening. Her attention span is fuckin’ superhuman.”

“Yeah,” Clint’s voice got very innocent, “What about archery?”

“Nice try, Hawk.”

It came down to one Friday night, Natasha sitting cross-legged in front of the board eating Chinese from the box, Bucky standing as he shovelled his in with a fork and occasionally used the utensil to point at the wall.

“Alright, Romanov,” he barked, “Final choices. Ballet, soccer, hockey, rock climbing, lacrosse, violin and piano. There aren’t enough hours in the week to do more than three, so you gotta make a decision.”

She screwed up her face contemplatively. “Ballet.”

“We have ballet!” Bucky circled the word theatrically, “What else?”

“Not violin.”

“Thank god.” The brunette muttered, crossing it out.

“Piano.”

“Okay, one more.”

Natasha’s mouth squirmed. She tapped her chopsticks against her chin.

“It’s okay if you’re not sure,” Bucky said, “You can always change next year.”

Her voice was resolute. “Hockey.”

Bucky thrust his hand in the air triumphantly. “Hockey it is!”

Nat giggled. “You’re silly.”

He winked. “We can’t both be sensible all the time.”

*****

Steve, heavily incognito in his hoodie and cap, ducked between the other parents while trying not to drop the snacks in each hand. He finally reached their seats, Bucky moving over to give him room and happily accepting a couple of hotdogs.

“What did I miss?” the captain asked.

“Tasha got the puck, but when she tried to pass it they ruled offside. The other team went for a goal but it didn’t go in.”

“Nice. Go Jaguars!” Steve shouted.

Bucky watched Nat skate past, head down with a determined look, and couldn’t hold back a proud grin. “Keep it tight, number 6!”

“She’s good.”

“Fast,” Bucky nodded in agreement, “She learned to skate from someone much better than me.”

They watched the kids glide past, sticks clacking against each other as they fought for the puck.

“How’s everything else?”

“Good, good. Her English is great; she’s reading Treasure Island to me at the moment. Her maths tutor says we should look into finding some classes on coding and web design.”

“She was always good with computers.”

“Watch your back!” Bucky yelled, “Yeah. Piano’s going well, though I swear to god if I have to hear Twinkle Twinkle Little Star one more time, I’m gonna throw the damn sheet music out the window.”

Steve snorted. “Maybe for Christmas I’ll get her something more your style to practice.”

“Would you? Please, I’m goin’ crazy.”

The blond laughed, taking a bite of his hotdog. “That’s being a parent, right? You put up with that stuff so they can be happy.”

“I know, I know. Hey, her ballet recital’s coming up. Did you get the invite?”

“Yeah. Clint and I are gonna bring Bruce cos Tony and Pepper said they didn’t want to draw attention away from the kids. I’m gonna film it for them. We can have dinner afterwards.”

“Cool.”

One of the bigger kids slammed Nat’s teammate into the glass, the little brunette bouncing off the wall and hitting the ice hard. The ref blew his whistle, coming over to make sure she was okay. She seemed to be, nodding, though she looked dazed as she got up and skated towards the bench.

“Surely that’s a foul?” Steve frowned.

The whistle blew and the game restarted, a couple of parents yelling angrily. Bucky clenched his fist on his knee.

“Who does this guy think he is? She could have been hurt, and that punk gets away with it?”

“Maybe you should say something to the officials after the game.”

“Maybe I will.” He scowled. That could have been Nat, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to beat the snot out of a kid if she got injured.

 

The game continued, Nat’s team skating even harder, the goalie clapping his hands against his legs with an encouraging yell. The score was tied, with only five minutes left on the clock. The bully from the other team got the puck, slicing straight for the goal. Nat was close behind, stick swishing from side to side as she reached his shoulder.

“Come on Jaguars!” Steve pumped his fist.

Then, somehow, the boy’s legs slid out from under him and he belly-flopped onto the ice, sliding fast into the wall. The ref blew his whistle, players slowing as he rushed to check on the boy.

Natasha very casually skated away, gliding past the barrier into front of Bucky and Steve. She gave the ex-soldier a wink.

Bucky laughed. “I think Nat just got a little payback.”

“What?”

He was so proud of her, not only for putting that little jerk in place, but for doing it without getting caught. That was worth an ice cream or a new book or celebratory nachos or something.

“That’s my girl.” He winked back.

When the final horn sounded, parents started moving out of the stands to collect their children. Bucky and Steve waited, since a couple of guys their size would stand out and they didn’t want anyone to recognise Steve. When the crowd had thinned out, they walked down to grab Natasha. She was sitting with a couple of teammates, unlacing her skates, the coach standing over them.

“Great job today, everyone. We ran a good, clean game and it paid off.”

“Is George going to be disciplined, Mrs Jackson?” Natasha asked solemnly.

“I don’t know, Jessica. I’ll have to talk to the officials. That call was pretty shocking.”

“Hey Jess,” Bucky waved, “You ready to go?”

“I just need to change out of my shorts, Papa.” She stood, shouldering a sports bag.

“Okay. We’ll be waiting by the entrance.”

“She did very well, sir.” Coach Jackson beamed.

“She always does.” He ruffled her sweaty hair, smirking as the redhead shook him off.

The coach wandered off to talk to someone else’s parents as Natasha walked into the change room and Steve turned to Bucky, arching a brow.

“Papa?”

“Shut up, Rogers. It’s just a cover.”

“It’s sweet.”

“Think I can jam one of those giant foam fingers down your throat?”

The blond snickered. “Careful Buck, your soft spot’s showing.”

“I’ll show you somethin’ in a minute,” he flexed his metal hand into a fist, “And it won’t be soft.”

*****

It was a nice evening, balmy without being hot, and Bucky had decided the only thing that could make it nicer was ice cream. The pair walked to the shops hand in hand, arguing over flavours.

“Chunky monkey is the best American invention of all time.”

“Are you crazy? If you want banana we’ll make real splits, instead of that fake chemical crap. It’s gotta be butterscotch.”

“Cookie dough!”

“Bubblegum.”

She scowled. “You disgust me.”

Bucky laughed. “Fine – chocolate fudge?”

“And chunky monkey.”

“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

“Nope.” She said smugly, head high.

They reached the edge of the parking lot and Bucky skirted around a couple of mini-vans (from what he’d seen, soccer mums would be perfect HYDRA operatives). He led Nat along a path between the last bay and the back wall of the supermarket, one of the downlights flickering like a strobe. Just before they reached the corner, a broad man in a dark grey hoodie and black denim jacket stepped into their path, a gun in his hand.

“Hand over your wallet and phone, pal. This doesn’t have to get ugly.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate – or he did, but his training didn’t. His brain instantly ran the variables in play against likely outcomes, and he was moving before he even realised. His left hand shot out and clamped around the gun’s muzzle, crushing it with a quick squeeze. Meanwhile he yanked Natasha behind him with his right arm, putting his bulk between her and the mugger. The guy clearly hadn’t been expecting any resistance, or the speed of Bucky’s limbs, and he blinked in shock for a second before trying to pull the trigger.

But Bucky hadn’t stopped moving, grabbing their attacker’s shoulder so rough he felt the pop as it dislocated, the gun instantly dropping from his limp fingers. The brunette shoved him face-first into the wall, twisting his good arm up between his shoulder blades as the man yelled.

“Who sent you?” Bucky hissed.

“What? What are you talkin’ about, man? I think you broke my friggin’ arm!”

“Who sent you? What did they tell you?”

His grip tightened on the mugger’s wrist and he screamed, bones grating against each other. Bucky clenched his teeth, but there was no red angry haze or darkness clouding his mind, only cold, focused fury. He squeezed harder, some distant part of him smiling at the satisfying snap.

“Who sent you? I won’t ask so politely again.”

 

A small hand touched his leg and Bucky tensed, turning towards a possible second attacker. But it was Natasha, looking up at him warily.

“Papa, I don’t think anyone sent him. He is a nobody.”

Bucky frowned. That wasn’t right – he’d attacked them. He was a threat.

He took another look at the man, who was now crying quietly, a strong scent of urine indicating he had actually peed himself. Assassins didn’t pee themselves, no matter how frightened they were pretending to be. And his gun was cheap and badly cared for, the numbers filed off inexpertly. He wasn’t an agent.

Bucky reeled back, the mugger’s legs collapsing without the support. Natasha tugged at his pants again, herding him away from the man.

“We should go. We do not want to talk to the police.”

She was right and he knew it, but he couldn’t quite make his brain start again. It was stuck on the relief that they hadn’t been discovered, that Natasha was okay, that it was just an ordinary criminal. And somewhere, taking over, was the voice in his head telling him to get the principal back to safety.

“We need to move.” He said, hoisting Nat onto one hip with his tireless metal arm, taking off at a run.

She held on, burying her face in his shoulder. It wasn’t far to the apartment, and he covered it in half the time, not putting Nat down until they were behind their own locked door. Bucky did a sweep of the apartment, checking all the windows and under the beds and in the closets and vents. When he came back into the main room, Natasha was standing by the couch worriedly.

“James?”

“Area seems secure, but I should have Stark do a satellite sweep just in case.”

“James, it is alright. We are alone, see?” she smiled.

Bucky frowned. “We can’t take any chances.”

“There is no one coming for us, not tonight. But if it makes you feel better, we could stand watch.”

She sat on the floor, patting the spot next to her. Bucky felt restless, adrenalin still pumping, but he had to obey the principal unless the order contradicted his assignment to keep her safe. He sat, back straight as a board.

“James,” she put a hand on his knee, “Thank you for protecting me.”

“It’s my job.”

She didn’t reply, sitting silently with him in the dark, the sergeant’s eyes on the door. But as the minutes dragged on and his body calmed down, Bucky lost that initial alertness. Her words penetrated the guarded, efficient part of his brain. A mugger – it had only been a mugger. And he’d overreacted, maiming the guy and leaving him in a heap on the ground.

Bucky twitched, a wave of nausea hitting him hard. He’d been ruthless, throwing another human being around like a rag doll, one who wasn’t even prepared for it. He’d just been a crook who happened to jump the wrong person. Bucky could have resolved it without violence, if he’d been able to think instead of just react.

“I…hurt him.” He breathed. So easily, like smashing a china doll. Bucky looked at the shining silver weight of his arm and felt sick and monstrous.

Natasha climbed into his lap and threw her arms around his neck, resting her head on his collarbone.

“You were being careful, James. That is good.”

“I should have been smarter.”

“He attacked us. You did not ask him to be there. If he was injured, it was his fault for trying to prey on innocent people.”

“I…god, I could have killed him.” Bucky muttered, realising with horror he’d almost murdered someone – he wasn’t that person anymore, he was good now, he was more like the guy Steve remembered, he was considered a competent and rational guardian. He wasn’t an assassin. He wasn’t a weapon.

Natasha kissed his nose. “You were wonderful.”

She hummed under her breath, the tune turning into a soft lullaby, her tongue curling around the words as she stroked his neck. Slowly, slowly, Bucky pushed back the raw fear making his limbs shake. He pressed his hands tentatively against her back, inhaling deeply as he let the song smooth out his thoughts.

“Thank you, Natalka.”

She smiled and kept singing.

*****

Bucky stuck his head into the bathroom. “Have you finished your teeth?”

Nat gave him a shark-like smile in response and he grinned.

“Good. Time for bed.”

“Will you tuck me in?”

Bucky’s brows shot up. “Uh, sure.”

He followed her into the bedroom. The redhead climbed under the covers and looked up with a vulnerable expression, brows furrowed uncertainly. Bucky knelt beside the bed and pulled the blankets up, making sure they were snug around her.

“Good night, Natalka.”

“Good night, Papa.”

He froze, metal fingers clenching too hard in the fabric. Bucky frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, Natalia. I don’t want you to think…that I’m trying to replace your father.”

“I don’t remember him. But I know you – you look after me, and you teach me, and you protect me. You’re the best papa I’ve had,” she screwed up her face, “Don’t you like it? If you don’t want to be my papa, that’s okay. I know you only agreed to look after me because no one else could.”

His words caught in his throat, and his mouth was suddenly as dry as the Sahara. Her lip wobbled, and Bucky realised he was an inch away from screwing this up.

“No, Natalka, I like it. I’m just not sure I know how to be a father – or a good one, at least.”

“I think you’re a good one.”

“Then I guess that’s the opinion that matters.” He gave a gravelly laugh.

Bucky leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“Good night, my Natalia.”

He got up and turned off the light, closing the door behind him. Bucky sank back against the wood. He was a dad? How did that happen? He supposed he could see it, since he thought he did all the stuff dads do (even if some of it was in unconventional ways). Why wasn’t he more freaked out about it? He searched his chest for the panic that should have been there and found…nothing. Contentment. Calm. Pride, which he hadn’t felt in so long, and a slight worry he couldn’t live up to the expectations of such an important title as ‘father’. But it wasn’t the hideous clawing anxiety he was used to, and he felt like he could handle it by just carrying on as he had been. Natasha would be understanding if he wasn’t always perfect. She’d help him. It seemed like it should be the other way around, but Bucky had a feeling that’s what parenthood was – someone smaller and smarter than you, making you want to be better until you were.

“Papa.” He whispered, shaking his head. He could get used to that.


	5. Epilogue

Bucky leaned back against the fridge, arms folded over his chest, and listened to the soft scratch of the door opening. He didn’t move, waiting as a dark figure slipped across the lounge room without making a sound.

“Nice move, greasing the window track. You forgot the latch though.”

The figure froze and gave a frustrated growl, flicking the light on. Natasha scowled at him, her thick eyeliner making the expression more ferocious.

“How did you know?”

“Because I can hear the mice breathing under the floorboards, kid. You’d have to be an ant to sneak out without me noticing.”

She huffed and shrugged off her jacket. “Am I busted?”

“Nah, not if you answer a couple of questions.”

The teenager sighed and sat at the counter, facing him.

“Where were you?”

“Party.”

“The adolescent kind?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Then why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to go instead of sneaking out?”

She made a face. “You yelled at me for half an hour straight after the last one.”

“Because you came home with a dislocated shoulder from wrestling drunk frat boys who thought you were easy meat. I was pissed.”

“I told you I was sorry about that – I should have anticipated the move.”

The soldier leaned his hands on the counter with a disappointed frown. “What you _should_ do is trust me, Natalka.”

The redhead swallowed loudly, fingers circling on the benchtop. “I do. I’m sorry, Papa.”

“I just like to have some idea where you are so if something happens, I don’t have to waste time tracking you down before I can ride to the rescue.”

She giggled. “I don’t need rescuing, Papa. I can handle myself.”

He walked around the counter and gave her a one-armed hug, kissing the top of her head as she nestled into his chest. “I never doubted it. You’re the tough one, right?”

“We both are – best team on the East Coast.”

“Damn straight. Now go to bed, cos my old ass needs its beauty sleep.”

“But you look so good for your age, Papa,” she smirked, slipping away, “Not many centenarians can pass for forty.”

“Please!” he scoffed, “I can pass for thirty-five. Easy.”

“Not as easy as Uncle Steve.” She sang.

“Is that what he thinks? Oh, Roger is so dead.”


End file.
